Milk and Honey
by Magdaleria
Summary: A story in which Midoriya Inko is terminally ill, and becoming a hero isn't the hardest thing Izuku has ever done. Warnings for suicidal ideation and a Very Sad Child.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Mentions of suicide, bullying, medical issues, etc. These are pretty common themes, so don't read if they bother you.**

* * *

 _"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."_

-L.M. Montgomery

* * *

All men are not created equal.

It is the simplest lessons that hurt the most.

* * *

Midoriya Izuku was always an excitable kid. A bit of a follower, maybe, if you'd asked his teachers, never one to take the lead, but he'd follow with his best foot forward and a smile on his face. He was so happy, so good, and that determination! Why, when the children got together and their mothers had a moment to converse, they would titter. He would make such a good sidekick one day.

And, honestly, Izuku was content with that. More than content. One day, it would be him and Kacchan, taking down bad guys! Kacchan would blow them up and be all big and powerful and _heroic,_ just like All Might! And Izuku would be just like Sir Nighteye! They'd be a team!

They'd be a team.

Until they weren't.

The doctor's words were spoken bluntly, with a tinge of pity, but little care. However much they seemed to reverberate throughout the tiny hospital room, it took both Midoriyas a solid pause for the words to kick in.

"But maybe he's just a late bloomer-!" Inko exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing as she laid a hand on her sons shoulder. "After all, I even-"

But Izuku couldn't hear her anymore. It was muffled; in that moment, everything was muffled. It couldn't be real, it couldn't be. They were going to be a team. He was gonna be a hero, he was going to save people with a smile on his face-!

Inko tried to fix it, Izuku cried, but even then—

Izuku smiled.

* * *

"Can I be a hero?"

"I'm so sorry Izuku, I'm so sorry!"

* * *

Midoriya Izuku was a skittish kid. It was a bit uncomfortable to watch, honestly. He was always a bit of a weirdo, with the whole mumbling thing. And didn't you hear? _Quirkless._ My, he's going to have trouble in this day and age. And still following after that Bakugou boy! Now that was a kid who was going places, with a quirk like that. Midoriya would probably get the hint soon, and leave all the heroics to the abled people.

It was pathetic to watch really, but kids will be kids.

* * *

"Kaa-san?" Izuku whispered, eyebrows furrowed as he peeked in through the cracked door. The bedroom was dim, and he could barely make out the shape of her bed through the low light of the moon filtering through the curtains. "Are you sleepin'?"

There was a soft sound of fabric moving, and a vague form sat up slowly, leaning heavily on their arms. "Izuku, baby? Is that you?" A hoarse voice responded.

The five year old boy quickly took the words as an unspoken invitation and opened the door all the way, dragging a small blanket behind him as he quickly entered the room and crawled up into the bed. Inko scooched slightly, raising the covers so that the younger boy could creep in before laying back down and wrapping an arm around him.

Izuku wasted no time in snuggling up against her, only to pause and look up at her, befuddled. "Kaa-san, you're shiverin'!" He wondered. The room itself was on the warmer side – it was mid-June, and they're air conditioning barely worked on the best of days.

Inko let out a soft chuckle, threading her fingers through her son's hair, a soft smile on her face. "Kaa-san's just a little sick, baby." She told him. "She'll be better soon. Now, what are you doing up so late, hmm?"

The young boy let out a contented sigh, snuggling deeper into the covers. "Nightm're." He murmured, but he didn't seem too terribly affected by it, already half asleep.

Inko's smile faded slightly, but she kept petting his hair. "Do you wanna talk about it?" She hummed. There was a pause as Izuku seemed to contemplate whether it was worth the effort, but he did eventually answer.

"…'s Tou-san comin' back?" He whispered, peeking up at her through dark eyelashes. Inko couldn't help the slight flinch in response, but she swallowed it down and closed her eyes. Took a breath.

"No, baby, he's not." She could make out the slight quivering of Izuku's lip even from beneath the thin sheet, and she'd recognize the sheen to his eyes a mile away. The boy let out a slight sniffle, burrowing his face into her chest.

"S'cause I'm useless." He muttered, the words muffled by her t-shirt – it felt like a knife to the heart. She could barely bite back her own tears at the words, and quickly kissed her son's messy head of curls.

"Oh, no, nonono, baby you aren't useless. Tou-san- Tou-san and Kaa-san just- it wasn't your fault, okay? You're perfect." She murmmered, the words breathless. Inko could feel the wetness gathering against her chest, could see the slight shaking of the boy's shoulders, and rubbed his back.

Inko wondered how many times she would have to tell him that before he'd believe it.

* * *

"I can't do this anymore, Inko! I just- I can't. We messed up, we shouldn't have even done this, we can't afford this!"

"Hisashi, just be rational-!"

"He's never going to amount to anything! All these, these tests, all those toys and that god damn video, Inko, you're just wasting your time!"

"He's your son, he's _our_ son!"

" _He's_ _ **useless**_ _Inko!"_

* * *

All men are not created equal.

All men are not created equal.

All men are not created equal.

* * *

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* * *

Midoriya Izuku is a quiet kid, kind of dull, really. You'd barely notice that he was there half the time. He's a good writer and all, his grades aren't bad, but he doesn't really stick out you know? Kind of plain. I mean, with the whole quirkless thing – well, some kids get at him a bit, but boys will be boys. It'll stiffen his spine, he'll need that you know? Especially with what happened with his mother. Oh, didn't you hear? Why, she collapsed in old Fukashu's corner store just last week-!

* * *

They never really give her a diagnosis. It's more like a smattering of issues, all accumulated into a body that just doesn't work. Gastroparesis and neuropathy, and dysmoblility, fibromayalgia, and postural orthostatic tachycardia. Izuku can't begin to count the nights he'd stayed up late, just researching and hoping and hoping and hoping and _hoping,_ but there's never a solid answer. Its never anything quantifiable, nothing that can be written off and fixed with a pill you took every day.

Just a long string of doctors that didn't have answers and a backpack filled with more daily medication to take than most homes had in the entirety of their medicine cabinet.

The doctors got expensive. The medicine got expensive.

Izuku watches his mother suffer, and waits.

* * *

Kaachan doesn't talk to him much, anymore. Oh, he likes shoving him when he walks by, and popping sparks next to his face when he's scribbling in his notebooks, and yeah he'll ruin his stuff or put burn holes in his clothes, but they don't really talk. It's either a, "Get outta my way, shitty fuckin' Deku!" or its nothing at all.

The burns hurt. He starts buying cheaper notebooks, starts learning to memorize what he wants to say before he even attempts putting pen to paper. Fire starts to make him nervous.

Izuku thinks he hates Kacchan.

But he misses him even more.

* * *

His mom spends most of her time sleeping now. Sixteen to eighteen hours a day – sometimes, she's awake when he leaves for school, but she's usually napping by the time he gets home for the day. Sometimes, she'll have enough energy to wake up for a bit and have dinner with him even if she can't really eat it, and he loves her so much he thinks his heart is going to burst.

She smiles at him with a pale face and purple lips, asks, "How was your day baby?" And he smiles back, eats his microwave dinner, and lies.

Oh, it was great! They're starting the Muromachi Period in history and it's just fascinating, and he got to pet a stray dog on the way home, and there was this hero fight he saw on the news-!

He doesn't mention the bruises and the burns and the words that cut so deep he wears them like a brand under his skin.

Izuku isn't naïve, for all that he still wants to be a hero. He's done his research, he's lived with his mother day in and day out, and a part of him knows. Even if he doesn't think he could say it out loud, he knows.

His mother isn't going to live forever. Kaa-san loves him more than anything in the world, and he does her, and he never wants to hurt her. So he tucks her back into bed, cleans up the dishes, does his homework, and he waits.

Because he's living for her. For now, he has to live.

He waits.

* * *

It's Kacchan who puts the idea in his head – he does that with a lot of things. It had been the blonde boy who'd first said, "Your stupid dad probably left cause he didn't wanna stare at your dumb face!" It had been him who'd exclaimed in front of the whole class, "You still wanna be a hero? You're quirkless, you idiot! Your worthless! You think someone's gonna want to be saved by a freak like you?!"

Children are cruel. Izuku can't help but think that the teacher who watched it happen and didn't say a word is crueler.

It's the first year of middle school when it happens. They're halfway through the break between third and fourth period when Izuku finds himself abruptly shoved up against a wall, his head cracking audibly against the brick of the school building. A muffled hiss escaped from between his teeth, the world around him is blurry for only a moment.

"Fucking Deku, looking so goddamn smug!" The words are familiar, but the tone sends a shiver down his spine as he looks up in a panic. Kacchan's red eyes are glowing as they glare down at him, and Izuku can already make out the burnt-caramel smell of nitroglycerin emanating from the boy. Kacchan's in a bad mood.

It never ends well for him when Kacchan's in a bad mood.

"I'm sorry-" He tried to whisper, only to flinch violently as a fist impact the wall directly next to his head. Kacchan is nearly snarling now, hackles risen as his lackeys look on, smirks on their faces. Izuku already knows no help is coming from that direction.

"It makes me fuckin' sick just looking at you! Coming in here, thinking you can still amount to something, how fuckin stuck up are you, huh, Deku!?" Kacchan punches the wall again, and this time a small explosion eeks out, singing Izuku's hair and ear and he winces, closing his eyes and just waiting for whatever comes next.

Its wet. A splash of liquid meets his face unexpectedly and the younger boy sputters, eyes opening abruptly as he tried to wipe at his face – it stings in his eyes, and smells of – apple juice? Through squinted vision, he can make out the crumbled form of his lunch bag, where his juice pouch had apparently been turned against him. It had been one of Kacchan's 'friends,' the one with the wings whose face was twisted into a sneer.

"Hey, fuckin' extra, did I say you could do anything?" The blonde boy spat, quickly turning around and glaring ferociously at the other boy who paled and backed away, carefully not making eye contact. The kid's actions seemed enough to get Kacchan to back off for the moment, looking down at Izuku wet and miserable as he tried to rub juice out of his eyes.

"Better than you deserve, useless Deku. Might as well bring bleach to drink tomorrow, do us all a damn favor." He spat, and with a final harsh shove and a flurry of sparks, Izuku was left sitting on the school ground, alone.

His hands were shaking, he noted almost mechanically as he checked himself over. His ear was throbbing from where open flame had met it, and his hair smelt singed. His chest ached from the force of Kacchan's shove, and he knew he was going to have a sizeable lump on his head by tomorrow morning.

Drink bleach.

"Stupid Kacchan," He whispered, unable to fight back the tears that welled in his irritated eyes. "Stupid- stupid, stupid-" Izuku muttered, fisting his hands in his hair and for a moment just tugging, inhaling sharply at the sting before relaxing.

He had only a few minutes to get cleaned up before class – he couldn't get away with changing into his gym uniform, so he'd had to get as much of the juice off him as he could.

Standing on shaking legs, Izuku left, but he didn't forget.

He never forgot.

* * *

He couldn't kill himself.

It wasn't like the thought hadn't gone through his mind before, that there wasn't an easy way out where he didn't have to wake up and face the gaping hole inside of him, knowing that every day he got up was pointless and that he was going to die never having accomplished anything, never having been loved or wanted or smiled at by someone who knew how _useless he was-_

But no matter how tempting, he couldn't. His mom loved him. Midoriya Inko lived and breathed for her son. After Tou-san had left, Kaa-san had worked tirelessy to provide for him, to provide the extra tests from specialists to be absolutely sure he was quirkless, for his schooling, for their house and everything else. She worked for years, until her body started to fail her, and she worked even then.

It wasn't until she collapsed that she finally agreed to rest, to file for disability and just take it easy. She put food on the table for him, instead of medicine for herself. She smiled at him through the pain, she laughed and held him when he cried, and he would do _anything_ to repay everything she had done for him.

So he would. As long as him mom lived, so did he.

And when she died, so would he.

So he planned, and he waited.

* * *

It gets harder. He grows up, watches his classmates flourish and leave him behind, and he aches. He catalogues every quirk he comes across near obsessively, convinced in some way that maybe he can make up for his complete and utter lack of ability in knowledge, like he's somehow find a way to overcome all of his burdens and become the hero he always wanted to be.

He knows he can't, but a part of him still wants. Wants to believe, wants to _be._ He knows it'll give up eventually. A rock can only be eroded so far before it crumbles.

Kacchan is brilliant. He is bright and colorful and loud and alive and sometimes Izuku thinks he's like a comet, where you see him and for a moment you're mesmerized, but eventually as you get closer and closer to the light you realize its heading straight towards you and hits the ground and shatters everything you ever cared about and-

And well. Kacchan is going to be amazing. He's going to be a hero that can beat even All Might, he's going to save lives and make money and Izuku will always be there, quietly cheering him on from the sidelines. Kacchan deserves to be a hero, after all his hard work.

Kacchan is worth something

He has nightmares about those eyes

The gut wrenching fear every time someone flicks a lighter

He just wanted to be _friends—_

Kacchan is going to be a great hero.

* * *

 **So I'm the kind of person that loves reading sad shit, and also writing sad shit, so here we are my dudes. This is mostly a kind of vent fic, as someone with a chronic illness and a Very Sick Mom, but who knows where it'll go! This is kind of a prologue, as we'll be getting into canon next chapter. Also a heads up, not sure if I'll include romance, but if I do its more likely than not gonna be gay, so if that bothers you don't read it.**

 **I always love feedback~! I also know I switch tenses 24/7 and I Am Sorry.**

 **Song of the Chapter:** ** _Milk and Honey by Flowerface_**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter warning: Abuse, suicidal thoughts, panic attack, etc. These are pretty common themes, you should probably not read if they bother you.

* * *

 _"Because what's worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?"_

-James Patterson

* * *

Izuku would arguably say that this was the worst day of his life.

This is a surprise to him, as most days have the tendency to just continuously add on to the amalgamation of terrible days he experiences, but this one is worse. It just keeps getting worse.

It starts at 4:23am, to the sound of someone vomiting muffled through his door. Izuku could feel his heart clench inside of his chest, but didn't hesitate to slide out of his covers and rub the vestiges of sleep from his eyes. He cracked open his door and crept down the hall, the bathroom light flooding the otherwise dark hallway. As the young teen got close enough to peek inside, he could make out the shaking shoulders of his mother as she laid her head against the toilet seat.

Kaa-san says nothing when he sits down on his knees beside her, brushing her hair back away from her face, just looks at him with glistening eyes set in a gaunt, sweaty face and smiles sweetly. Izuku smiles back, even as he tries to pointedly ignore the blood splattered amongst the pristine white of the tile floor. He sits there with her for another forty-five minutes almost, rubbing her back and whispering softly to her as the woman heaves up what little is in her stomach before eventually tucking her back in.

"I'm sorry, baby." Kaa-san whispers to him, curled up in blankets, with shaking hands and glassy eyes. "You shouldn't have to do this."

Izuku lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob and kisses her forehead. "I want to!" He insists, and he's not even sure if it's a lie. "Get some rest okay? I'll check on you when I get home."

Kaa-san is asleep before he even closes her bedroom door, and the boy almost wishes it hurt with the same intensity it once did. He still remembers the gut-clenching panic, the first time he saw her shoulders shaking as her fragile frame was wracked with coughs and there was _blood in her hand_ and he was so scared that the last memory he would ever have of her would be her scared and bleeding and gasping for air-

But life goes on. Izuku goes to the kitchen, gets the bleach, and gets to work.

 _The bleach stays in the kitchen now-_

 _It was too tempting upstairs-_

 _Sometimes he still thinks about-_

 _Drink up-_

* * *

The day does not get better. Izuku is exhausted by the time he makes his way out of the apartment, hands stinging from the harsh chemicals, and the bags under his eyes hidden as best as he could with a bit of his mom's makeup.

His backpack feels as though it weighs a thousand pounds from where it thumps against his shoulder blades, and each step feels as though it is taken with an anchor tied to his ankle. It is the kind of fatigue that's not just because of a night of interrupted sleep, but is bone deep and _aches_ , but he swallows it down and he walks because he just has to wait a little while longer he has to keep going he has to keep waking up for just a little bit longer-

There's a villain. And honestly, that's probably the best part of his day. Izuku can never hold back the words that aim to spill from his lips as he watches the local heroes enter the scene. Each and every quirk is just so versatile, and even from the crowd the energy and excitement and chaos of everything that happens makes his heart sing with such a fierce desire it feels like he's drowning in it.

Izuku is half convinced that he couldn't stop himself from jotting down observations if he tried.

And honestly, at this point, he was a bit optimistic for his day – he got to watch a heroic debut, (Mount Lady! Were there varying levels to which she could increase her mass? What did the increased mass come from, some kind of cellular generation or perhaps the manipulation of lipids? What fabric did she use that could stretch to such insane proportions? Could she make herself smaller? What demographic was she catering to- another 18+ hero or perhaps something catering towards younger females and teenagers-) and he'd even been encouraged! Just a single person telling him he could be a hero made an almost foreign warmth rise from inside him, and the smile that danced across his face wasn't forced.

"I'll do my best!"

* * *

It gets worse.

Sensei begins to talk about high school choices, and Izuku should've known, he should've _known_ that Ikimaru-Sensei would single him out. He always did. The moment he heard the man tell the class that, "-Midoriya is also aiming for U.A., isn't that right?" he felt like a deer in front of an eighteen wheeler.

Kaachan's rage was almost solid it was so intense.

And sure, the words spit with such vitriol stung, and Izuku had to swallow down the pang of humiliation at the chorus of laughter from him classmates when he flinched away from the popping coming from Kacchan's fists, but Kacchan never actually hurt him in front of a big audience.

He preferred it to be one on one, or three on one, so that no one would stop him until he was finished.

After class was another matter.

Izuku had tried _so hard_ to get out before the blonde boy could corner him, but he'd dropped his pen and he'd tripped over his chair, and then suddenly-

The sweet smell of burning nitroglycerin. Izuku yelped, flinching away from the steaming hand as Kacchan slammed his fist down on his desk, eyes darting around wildly, only to notice in horror that the teacher, and most of the other students had left already. The ones remaining didn't even look his way.

"Fucking useless Deku, do you think you're funny!? Do you think this is a fucking game?" Kacchan hisses, his teeth gritted and his face flushed. The green-haired boy rapidly shook his head.

"N-no of course-"

"Of course?! Of-fucking-course?! Oh, you're being a smartass now? How fucking egotistical can you get, you quirkless motherfucker!?" Bakugou spat, and Izuku couldn't help but try to lean back in his chair as best as he could, he really couldn't get another hole burned into his uniform, it was nearing the end of the month and they wouldn't have the money to do it for a while-

"S-sorry, I'm sorry—" Izuku mumbled, desperately avoiding eye contact, only to let out a soft whine when Kacchan harshly grabbed onto his collar, pulling him forward, close enough that he could smell the toothpaste the boy had used this morning.

"Im going to be the only successful person from this piece of shit school!" Kacchan hissed, and the smaller boy cringed at the feeling of spit hitting his face. "I'll be the only hero, and the only one going to U.A., and I'm not going to have a quirkless Deku ruin that! So you better back the fuck off!"

Izuku's heart was beating so rapidly in his chest that he was almost afraid that the rest of the room could hear it. He could feel the heat beginning to increase from Kacchan's grip, and he felt tears beginning to sting in his eyes. The blonde boy let out a disgusted noise, shoving him back hard enough that he teetered in his seat.

Even amidst his shaking and the smell of singed fabric, Izuku felt a slight thrum of relief – that wasn't as bad as he had expected. That is, until-

"Haa, Hero Analysis for the Future?" Absolute horror. One of Kacchan's lackeys was holding his notebook, his prized notebook filled with hours and hours and _months_ of work between two fingers, like he was afraid quirklessness was contagious. Kacchan's jerked his head around, and a nasty look glinted in his eyes as he held a hand out.

The other boy tossed it over easily, and Izuku could barely let out a panicked, "Please, don't-!" Before Kacchan had grasped it between both hands and it went up in flames with the loud _pop!_ of an explosion.

Izuku was nearly sobbing at this point, shuddering breathes leaving him even as he shakily stood up, desperately reaching for the notebook as if a miracle might occur and for once in his life Bakugou Katsuki would deign to be merciful, but the violent boy only sent him a mocking grin.

"You won't be needing that, will you, fucking Deku? Face reality already." The words were only compounded by Bakugou as he chucked the singed notebook out the window, and Izuku full on flinched at the sound of a muffled splash – of course it fell in the koi pond.

Cheeks covered in tears and snot dripping from his nose, all the green haired boy could do was shake, unable to say anything else even as Kacchan left the room with one last harsh shoulder check, and a single comment.

"If you want to be a hero so badly, you might as well do the world a favor and take a swan dive off the roof! Maybe you'll get a quirk in the next life, fucking Deku."

The soft sounds of congratulations, laughter, and roughhousing faded and all Izuku could do was sit.

And wait.

* * *

All men are not created equal.

All men are not created equal.

A

Ll mEn

aRen o t c

r Q

uA L

* * *

The notebook is completely ruined. The few pages that were untouched by the explosion are soggy, smudged, and illegible.

It feels a bit like a metaphor for his life.

No matter how hard you work for something, in the end, it doesn't matter.

There is no mercy.

* * *

Izuku takes the long way home. The villain fight from earlier, the rush of excitement and the smiling face of a stranger, the single, "I'm rooting for you!" seem further away than ever before. Even Kacchan's words don't hurt anymore.

Nothing hurts anymore.

He is numb.

He thinks that is worse.

It feels almost like he's barely tethered to his own body, only the sounds of concrete scuffing against the soles of his shoes and the distant sound of traffic remind him that he's still here, a physical construct, a _human._ He feels more like a ghost.

Soon, though. Soon.

Honestly, when the villain arrives, he almost wants to laugh, because of-fucking-course today could get worse. Of course. What would happen next? Would All Might himself come and stab him in the back with a smile on his face?

He had barely any warning, only a muttered, "-a medium-sized body!" before he was encased in a thick, slimy, and putrid smelling substance. Izuku could hardly make out the sight of a single large eye before his face was covered and he flailed wildly, kicking his legs as best as he could, opening his mouth to scream only there was something in it, sinking down his throat and into his chest and filling him and he was going to _die—_

"Heh, you're my hero kid! Never though _he_ would show up here—"

But. But that wasn't too bad. As the second passed and his lungs started to burn like Kacchan himself had lit a fire within them, Izuku couldn't help but think that maybe this was okay. Maybe this was better.

If it was an accident, or a villain attack or whatever, his mom would be heartbroken, but it'd be easier for her to get over than if he did it himself. And honestly, he'd never really known how he was going to do it, he'd never wanted to hassle whoever found his body after all. So many of the ways he could think of were so messy, and all he did was inconvenience people in life, he was going to do it in death too? He'd only hope that they wouldn't make mom pay for the funeral, would their insurance cover everything? He didn't need to be buried, just cremate him, let him be as unremarkable in death as he ever was in life and—

When did Izuku close his eyes? The feeling of being invaded, of suffocating, is further away now, as though he's experiencing it from another room.

How sad would it be when the only person at his funeral was him mom. Maybe some of the neighbors would come. Maybe dad would come. It would be nice if Kaa-san and Tou-san got back together.

This was almost peaceful. Why bother fighting it? All he had to do

was

stop

fighting

and

sleep.

* * *

One time, when Izuku and Kacchan were still little, before their quirks manifested and the sun still shined and Kaa-san's smile didn't look so _painful,_ Mitsuki-baachan had taken them to the beach.

Izuku had been a little terrified, because the waves were big, bigger than anything he'd ever seen, crashing like giants going to battle on the shore but It. Was. So. _Cool._ His squeals had filled the air, even as he followed behind a stomping Kacchan who held a plastic shovel in his hands like a sword.

The two had been daring rescue heroes – or, he had been, moving small hermit crabs out of the way of Kacchan's death march. Katsuki had barked his orders left and right, the manic smile on his little face missing a front tooth, and Izuku had been at his right hand, holding a bucket whenever they found precious treasure, such as really cool shells or this one weird looking bottle cap.

As he drifted, he couldn't help but remember that. They'd gone swimming at one point, the waves breaking around them, Kacchan yelling loudly when a wayward crab latched onto his swimming trunks and Izuku panicking. Mitsuki-baachan's delighted cackles sounding from down the beach. In his flailing, the blonde boy had shoved him under the water, and Izuku could remember the panic as salt water gushed into his sinuses and down his throat, stinging his eyes.

He thinks that was one of the best days of his life.

* * *

Izuku wakes up so abruptly that the world spins as he sits up. He's coughing, gagging and choking before his mind even registers that he's conscious, and the middle schooler is immediately curled up onto his knees, vomiting up slime into the grass, barely noticing the warm hand patting his back and muttering to him.

Oh god, the _taste_ , its bitter and thick and reminds him of melted taffy and he wants it _out of his body_. Tears stream down sticky cheeks as he heaves over and over again. It seems to take hours before his lungs are inflating like they should be, and the boy is left blinking blearily over a puddle of his own sick. It takes a few more moments for the situation to register.

He had been taken hostage by a villain, he was dying, he was _ready,_ he'd _accepted it_ , and someone had the nerve to take it _away from him._

Izuku wasn't even aware that he could get angry anymore, but he could vaguely recall that that was the emotion running through his veins, hot, dark, and harsh, and Izuku had barely lifted his head, eyes stinging with frustrated tears to give whoever decided to prolong his suffering a harsh word only to meet a colorful chest.

A large colorful chest.

That was attached to a thick neck. And a large head. And blonde hair.

And _oh dear sweet Kami above that was All Might._

"Thank goodness you are okay, my boy!" All Might _holy shit it was All Might_ announced, his customary smile stretched across a severe yet friendly face. The man patted him once more on the back _holy shit All Might had been_ _ **touching him**_ _—_ "I apologize for getting you caught up in my villain hunt! I am afraid that this land is still strange to me!"

Izuku was pretty sure he was hallucinating at this point.

"A-All Might!" He squeaked. "Y-you, you-!"

"Saved you? Yes, I did!" The number one hero replied, smile unwavering. He was holding a bottle filled with a thick sludge, and was that an eyeball? The villain? "I have successfully apprehended the villain, thanks to your help!"

The middle-schooler was pretty sure he was going to start sobbing, there was no way this was happening right now. He needed to- he needed to document this, somehow, he needed to- an autograph! But what did he have that All Might could sign-!?

"Ah-! Could I get your-" Izuku began, only to be cut off by the large hero handing him today's disappointment – the charred remains of his hopes and dreams, flipped open to one of the few blank pages, the words ALL MIGHT scrawled across them in Romaji. "Th-Thank you, All Might, sir!"

He carefully stood, his legs wobbling underneath him and his head throbbing (as happens when you suffocate), but still managing to bow as deeply as he could.

"Now if you'll excuse me, young man, I must bring this fellow to the authorities!" Izuku's sprung back up at the hero's words, panic rising in him. He couldn't be leaving already could he? Izuku had, well he had so much to say, to ask him-!

All Might crouched, getting ready to jump away, and Izuku? Izuku did what he was best at.

Something stupid.

* * *

When All Might touched down on the roof of a nearby office building, Izuku immediately fell to his knees, his heart thumping heavily in his chest as he wiped anxiously at his eyes. His mouth, already filled with the aftertaste of slime, was now tacky from the harsh winds – it was a conscious struggle to stop from coughing at the sudden dryness in his throat.

After taking a moment to regain his bearings, the young boy risked a glance up and immediately flinched at the sight of his hero staring down at him.

All Might wasn't smiling anymore.

The pit in his stomach deepened.

Izuku began scrambling to his feet, even as the number one hero began turning away, reaching out a hand even as the man began to speak. "That was beyond reckless, my boy!" He boomed. "Now, I really do need to be-!"

"Please, just, just one question-!" Izuku begged, but All Might seemed to barely hear him, already turning and beginning to crouch, and a sudden feeling of desperation nearly overwhelmed the boy.

He was never going to get another chance like this. The fact that he'd run into the man at all was such a rare occurrence, infinitesimal, and the thought of squandering the opportunity, of having wasted the few minutes in this man, his hero's presence vomiting and half dead, he needed, _he needed-_

 ** _He needed to know._**

How did he do it? How did All Might look at the world and smile with blood running down his face? How did he wake up every morning to a world where he kept seeing the worst humanity had to offer? He couldn't be that happy, that positive, he couldn't possibly be. How did he have hope?

The questions raced through his head, but when he opened his mouth, something else came out.

* * *

 _"Useless fuck, are you really that naïve? What the fuck are you gonna do when a villain comes at you, huh?! Cry on them? You're quirkless, dumbass!"_

* * *

"Can you be a hero without a quirk!?" The words were nearly ripped from him, so harshly that he could feel a burn in his rib cage to match the stinging in his eyes. He shook with their intensity, hands clenched at his sides, eyes drilling into All Might's back, begging with every ounce of his being.

A beat of silence.

Suddenly, the rooftop was filled with a thick steam, the sound of it releasing similar to that of air escaping a balloon. Startled, Izuku stumbled back slightly, eyes wide as he took in the scene. That had come from All Might's direction, had something happened-?

It took only a moment for the steam to begin to dissipate, and in its place was a figure. For a moment, the middle-schooler thought it was still All Might – the height was the same – but it became rapidly apparent that it was not.

It was a man. At first, and even second glance, he looked ghastly – pale, almost sallow skin pulled taut over bone, sunken black eyes framed with heavy bags that seemed far too large on such a shrunken face. He seemed disproportionate, drowning in clothes multiple sizes too large for him, positively dwarfed in fabric. Even from here, Izuku could make out the dryness of his skin, hints of blue around his knuckles.

His lips were purple.

* * *

 _Mom smiles at him with a pale face and purple lips, asks, "How was your day baby?"_

* * *

Understanding creeps up on him like noose. He notes the similarities – the same white shirt and khakis, the blonde hair somehow held in in that impossible style, the long neck and height, and he doesn't want to believe it. _He doesn't want to believe it._

But in the end, doesn't it figure?

"…All Might?" The words are whispered, but they seem to echo in the late afternoon, Izuku hesitantly meeting the eyes of the sickly man before him who seems to startle slightly, raising his pointed chin.

The man seems to hunch in on himself, but opens his mouth nonetheless – to reply? – but all the comes out is a strangled wheeze, followed by a harsh, wet cough. Izuku lets out a sharp yelp as he watches the man struggle, blood leaking down his chin, and immediately goes to dig in his backpack, where was it, where was it-!?

It takes a moment of frantic searching before the young boy manages to pull out what he was looking for – a stack of napkins, tucked haphazardly in a pocket, and a sealed bottle of water. Without missing a beat, he runs over to where the strange man stands, nearly curled in half now, hands clenched on his knees. His large body heaves with the force of his coughs, and Izuku is unable to stop himself from twitching in panic as he sees blood dripping from between the man's long, spindly fingers.

He quickly offers up the stack of napkins, and goes to pat the man on the back, but hesitates – its not like with his mom, where soft reassurances and gentle touches would soothe her, but the thought of just standing there doing nothing while someone was obviously in pain grated in a way little else did. Izuku let out a shaky breath before tentatively placing his hand on the man's back – it was probably for the best that he was crouched as he was, because as tall as the guy was there was no way Izuku could have reached otherwise, not without a step-stool.

He began to gently pat between the man's shoulder blades, mumbling reassurances as best as he could. "It's okay, you're going to be okay, just-just let it out, it's alright—"

It seemed like an eternity passed before the man was able to let out a shuddering breath, but was likely no more than 30 seconds. Blood-splattered hands reached up, taking the napkins from Izuku's clenched fists, and the middle schooler quickly removed his hand, stumbling backwards and thrusted the water bottle in front of him.

From this close, the rasp to the taller man's breathing was audible, even as he wiped his mouth and took the water bottle with a slight jerk of his head. He could see the water sloshing slightly from how badly the man's hands shook as he went to take a drink, and wondered briefly if he should've been calling an ambulance right now.

Izuku's hands tugged nervously on the edge of his jacket, eyes flitting back and forth from the man's prone form to the concrete of the roof, waiting – he wasn't quite sure what for though.

He didn't have long to wait. The man had stood back to his full height, the bloodied napkins already disappeared, likely shoved into one of the many pockets Izuku could make out. There was a hint of blood on the corner of the man's chapped lips and a light sheen of sweat along his forehead, but he didn't look panicked, like he probably would have if this had been uncommon.

He looked exhausted.

"…Thank you, my boy." The man said after a brief pause, and Izuku was hit with a sudden pang of nausea. The voice, the words, were the same. "You are right, though. I am All Might." He admitted, his voice rough but undeniable.

Izuku almost wished that he was surprised. Didn't it figure, though?

 _Everyone he cared about ends up_ _broken—_

The man – All Might – let out a soft groan and slid to the ground, sitting with his back propped up against the roof's edge. He took another swig of the water bottle, finishing it off, before setting it down and turning towards the middle schooler, his dark eyes intense as they stared directly at him.

Izuku froze, eyes widening in slight panic at the force of the attention on him but unable to look away. "B-but how…?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

All Might's quirk had always been heavily debated, especially on the hero forums that Izuku frequented. Whilst the majority of people were of the impression that it was some kind of incredibly overpowered strength enhancement quirk, that had never explained the near invulnerability the man had, or his ability to seemingly augment his body to move at incredibly speeds. It also failed to explain his ability to process the world around him at said speeds quickly enough to react as fast as he did. Another popular theory was some form of internal energy manipulation, but even that had flaws.

But now he had seen with his own eyes that at least part of All Might's quirk had to do was a minor transformation or shape-shifting ability, though ones that could somehow shift into a form with a greater mass than their natural ones were incredibly rare—

Izuku's internal tangent was cut off as the hero began to speak.

"This is my natural form." All Might admitted, his bangs bouncing as he inclined his head. "What you saw – what everyone saw – its like those guys who suck in their guts at the pool. It's not real." The man sighed, and reached down to tug his shirt up.

Izuku stumbled back slightly, a gasp escaping him as he saw All Might's torso. It was a patchwork of vivid white scar tissue, standing out starkly against his visible ribs. How was the man still alive? The kind of wound that would've caused a scar like that… the thought was insane.

"Five years ago I was wounded in battle. My respiratory system was nearly demolished – I lost one lung, and the other is only partially functional. My stomach was completely removed. I can only hold up my other form for hero work for about three hours a day." The way the man spoke was almost painfully blasé' considering the story he was telling. Even so—

"F-five years ago… you couldn't mean Toxic Chainsaw did this...?" Izuku asked in disbelief. All Might startled and then let out a bark of laughter, that, even with the audible roughness to it, sounded just like his heroic laugh. Seeing it come out of this gaunt man was like looking in a funhouse mirror – what he was seeing was far from what he knew should be there.

"Jeeze, you really are a fanboy, aren't you?" The man chuckled for a moment, leaving Izuku's face feeling uncomfortably warm. The amusement faded from All Might's posture only a moment later though, becoming staunchly serious.

"But no, there was no way a petty criminal like that could have done this. This was… someone else. The fight was never made public – I asked for it to not be made public." He explained, scratching at his head. "The truth of the matter is, All Might is the symbol of peace. He saves people with a smile, and is never cowed by the forces of evil."

All Might turned his gaze on Izuku, and his next words chilled him to the bone.

"But that smile? It's to hide this. The pain and the fear and the disappointment. There's nothing heroic about it."

* * *

 _Izuku is ten years old as he stares into the bathroom mirror, eyes rimmed in red as he tries desperately to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over._

 _Kaa-san was sleeping, and he didn't want to wake her up just because he was being stupid. Just because he was being dramatic. He was a big boy now, he could take of himself._

 _He was going to be a hero, and heroes didn't cry. Heroes_ _ **smiled**_ _just like All Might._

 _The young boy lets out a soft sniffle, blinking rapidly as he forced a large smile over his face. Its over-exaggerated and silly, almost, but its better than crying._

 _Kaa-san always looks so sad when he cries._

* * *

 _No._

"A hero's job is to risk their life. It's dangerous, and there's nothing glamorous about it."

 _Not you._

"A hero without a quirk you say?"

 _Anybody but you._

"I can't in good consciousness say that you can be one."

 _Please don't say it._

"If even heroes like me can be so badly injured… without a quirk, you don't even have a chance."

 _Pl_

 _EA_

 _se D O_

 _n_

 _t_

"It's not bad to dream, but you have to be realistic. You could be police officer maybe, or a doctor. There are other ways to help people."

 _Why is he surprised?_

"Anyways, please don't post anything about this online. You understand, right?"

 _Why did he expect anything else?_

* * *

What had he said? 'Would All Might himself come and stab him in the back with a smile on his face?' He almost wanted to laugh at the thought.

He'd stabbed him in the chest and looked him in the eyes as he did it.

Izuku deserved it.

He had known better.

* * *

The door to the building closes with a resounding thud, the sound strangely muffled to his ears. A part of him knows, distantly, that he is alone now.

He should be crying.

Its what he does. He's Deku, useless, quirkless, crybaby Deku. Something goes wrong and he whines about it and he cries and sobs and that's all he's ever good for is fucking up.

His hands are shaking, he notes absently.

He'd known! He'd known, he'd known he'd know he'd _known_ what the answer would be. A quirkless hero? How naïve was he? How could he sit there any honestly think that he had enough worth in this world to ever make a difference? Heroes were brace and courageous and Izuku was a coward, afraid of his own shadow, and **useless.** He couldn't do anything right and all ever did was make everyone's life more complicated—

When had he sat down? He could feel his hands knotted into his hair, tugging and pulling, but the pain, usually so sharp, seemed dull. It didn't help, it was supposed to _help—_

Izuku couldn't breathe. It wasn't like earlier, when he could feel the liquid creeping into his lungs, sinking into every crevice and filling him from the inside so that there wasn't even room for him to think, let alone to breathe. No, this was a familiar ache, the feeling of invisible hands reaching into his sternum, grabbing his lungs and squeezing. Its like he's the worlds stress ball, but the world just keeps squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter and there's never and give, never any release from the pressure, and he's going to crumble before he ever bounces back—

 _He can't do this._ He can't-! He tried, he really tried, for years and months and day and he'd been trying so hard because Kaa-san needed him, she loved him, but it **hurt** , this stupid, invisible ache that curled up inside his throat and choked him and he just wanted to stop hurting, he just wanted everything to stopstopstop ** _STOP—_**

When had he stood up? His legs trembled like a newborn calf's as he stumbled over to the roof's edge. It was barely a guardrail, it would be so easy, so simple to just hop over it and let go. He wouldn't have to wake up ever again, sitting in his bed, staring at his ceiling and knowing that another day was coming just like everyone before it, and the only thing he had to look forward to was the day he walked into his mother's room and she wasn't breathing so that he could finally join her and let it all end—

It would be so easy. The tears had started falling at some point, trailing down wind-chapped cheeks, dripping down his lips as he openly sobbed. It was so far down – everything looked so small from here, ants unknowingly living under a giant's boot. The proof that he was just another speck of dust in the universe, that he would die and the world would keep turning and no one would notice, and no one would _care._

But. But mom would care.

…What was he doing? Izuku stumbled back from where he'd been gripping the guardrail tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. He furiously tugged at his scalp, the sharp pain clearing his mind for a moment as he wiped the wetness on his face away with an already dirtied sleeve. How could he be so selfish? He had to wait, he knew that, he just had to wait for Kaa-san.

Izuku had to be a good son. He had nothing else, he had nothing left. He just had to wait.

So what if All Might had told him he couldn't be a hero? What if – Kami above, what would the man have thought if he'd heard that the boy he'd just talked to had jumped off the building? The hero would be devastated, and what if he blamed himself? He wouldn't know that it was Izuku's fault, not his own. And he'd already known what All Might had told him. He just didn't want to admit it.

He didn't want to give up hope.

Izuku let out a shuddering sigh, rubbing at his face again and forcing himself to breathe. In and out, in and out, over and over again until he could feel himself calming. He just needed to do it in steps. He'd leave the building, he'd go home, he'd check on Kaa-san, and he'd go to sleep.

The middle schooler picked up his bag with unsteady hands, taking one last glance at the edge of the roof before sighing and turning to the door that All Might had left through only minutes before.

Soon.

* * *

In the distance, sirens sound.

* * *

I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO SAY.

First off: This is one of the only chapters that is going to follow canon so closely. I personally hate when stories are just rewrites of canon, quoted word for word - I'm a bit guilty of that in this one, but its gonna deviate pretty heavily following this. Also this chapter is waaay longer than my usual ones so uh. Don't be surprised if this is a rare one.

Second, t. I never expected my sad vent fic to be so well received? Thank you so much? A lot of you guys have been very supportive in the comments, or you related to what I was writing! If you relate, I'm sorry, that sucks, but I'm glad I could give you something to relate to. And thank you for your support! I've never had anything I wrote be so well received, and I keep going back and reading all the comments that were left and getting all giddy. You guys are the best!

Third, one of the bigger AU bits about this fic is that All Might's injury actually effects him. He is a man with a severe chronic health condition and disability, and I'm gonna be detailing that and how it effects his day to day life and also his personality a bit. In canon its barely touched on, but its my playground to enjoy, yanno?

Also, like I said, I'm mainly using this fic as a way to vent, so expect copious amounts of Izuku whump. Its gonna get Pretty Bad before it gets Kind Of Better. This chapter is a bit less prose-y since it's more plot oriented, but I hope you guys don't mind~

Song of the Chapter: _"Nobody's Ever Going to Want Me"_ \- Giles Corey


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Warnings:** Suicidal ideation.

* * *

 _"Sometimes the price of dreams is achieving them."_

-Michael J Sullivan

* * *

Standing on a street, filled with wreckage and smelling of smoke, Izuku had to wonder how exactly he'd gotten there.

It was a bit of a blur – stumbling down flights of stairs, apologizing to disgruntled employees, feeling his hands press against the glass of the revolving door – he was a ghost, in the moment. Drifting, wondering, haunting the building just as surely as he would have had he taken that final fall.

But he digressed.

Walking home had been easy, little more than instinct, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as his sneakers scuffed along the paved sidewalk. Each footstep felt like a mistake.

Walking took effort.

He wondered if falling was easier.

Even still, when he could hear the wailing of an ambulance in the distance, followed by muted explosions and muffled screams, Izuku had hesitated perhaps for the first time in his life. Those sounds were his bread and butter, the cacophony that promised excitement and intrigue and _data,_ but—but he didn't need that, anymore. Just as surely as his hero notebook had been ruined, so had his dreams.

So why should he bother? For all that he knew he deserved a lot of what he got, Izuku wasn't a masochist. He was _tired_. He wanted to go home, he wanted to make dinner and curl up next to his mom and fall asleep to the sound of her stuttered breathing. He wanted to pretend that today had never happened, and hope to god that he would wake up and everything would be, if not okay, than better.

 _But,_ a part of him whispered. _What if you miss something?_

Curiosity was perhaps a more dangerous vice than any other.

So with his shoulders hunched, Izuku clutched the straps of his backpack and turned his back on the road to his house, moving with increased surety to the battle that had awaited him. He wondered absently just what hero would be on the scene – he'd seen someone post about Death Arms patrolling the area earlier, maybe it was him?

Sometimes, after days and weeks and months pass, he still wonders what would've happened if he'd never turned towards the commotion, that day.

Izuku thinks he'd probably be dead.

* * *

Shoving his way through the crowd is old hat at this point, a careful dance of pointed elbows and a few muttered, "—excuse me, oh, sorry!—" before getting close enough to see the action. He listens with half an ear to the mumbling of the crowd. The sea of people parts fairly easy under his experienced prodding, and he's nearly to the front when he stumbles to a stop, seeing something over the head of the women in front of him.

Rising above the crowd is a giant, dripping arm. He recognizes it.

Nausea hits him like a punch to the gut, and Izuku finds himself frozen, eyes wide as he stares with horror at the scene. The taste of mud, thick and putrid sits heavy on his tongue and for a moment he can almost feel himself choking on it. How could the villain be here!? All Might had-!

All Might had had the villain in the bottle. But had he had the bottle on the roof? Izuku tried to remember, fingers twitching violently as he desperately reviewed the past half hour of his life. Could the bottle have fallen out when the man 'poofed'? But he hadn't had it then, so when-?

Oh. Izuku had grabbed onto his leg, hadn't he, when they were flying? And he'd put the bottle in his pocket. This was his fault.

 ** _This was his fault._**

He should've jumped.

The sound of an explosion cuts through his train of thought, the sound reverberating harshly off of the nearby buildings. Screams sound from around him, deafening, and the crowd stumbles back slightly. Still, even over the general roar of panic, he hears people speaking.

"Is that a middle schooler-?!"

"Why are the heroes just standing around!"

"Wasn't All Might running after him earlier? Where is he?"

He feels his heart _stop._ Izuku stumbles forward, pushing past the last few people around him, panic squeezing his heart in an iron grip as he gets his first full look at the scene.

The sludge villain seems enormous, more-so on a single-lane street even than he had compressed into the underpass earlier. His limbs leave putrid smelling puddles dotting the asphalt as he flings them around, the smell made worse by the fact that parts of the liquid were burning. There was damage to the area, cars over-turned and a dumpster seemingly thrown through a nearby shop window, leaving glass shards littering the street. A row of heroes stood between the crowd of civilians, and he recognizes most of them from a brief glance; Kamui Woods seems to be removing the injured from the scene, Mount Lady lingers between buildings, and Backdraft seems to be trying to put out as much of the fire as he can.

Why weren't they doing anything? His thoughts echo the words he'd heard earlier, eyes following the thrashing of the villain with barely concealed horror. There were at least six pro-heroes here, and no one was doing anything. And now the villain had a hostage – how long since they had been taken? The feeling of suffocation lingered in the back of his mind like an omen, and he flinched.

Another explosion, and Izuku finally turned his eyes onto its source – a familiar face, even twisted as it was, covered in muck and a villain's jaw.

Bakugou Katsuki.

 _Kacchan._

And Izuku broke.

* * *

Izuku had always had trouble explaining his relationship with Katsuki. It had been easier when they were little, when he was the #2 to Kacchan's #1, the sidekick to his hero, the follower to his leader. He'd been content, happy even, to walk in the boy's footsteps, basking in the blonde's warmth because Kacchan was like the sun.

And Izuku knew what it was like to be burnt.

The first time the other boy had raised his hand to him, Izuku knew it had been his fault, even if he didn't regret it. When he had stood between Katsuki and the boy he'd been pushing around, Izuku had disrupted everything. Even then, he knew that Kacchan wouldn't like it, would take it as a challenge, and he had.

Kacchan had been furious, and he'd been _hurt._ And he'd taken that pain out on Izuku with fists and explosions that popped from his fingers, leaving his clothes singed and smelling of the burnt-caramel smell of nitroglycerin. He'd bloodied his lip and busted his nose, and though Izuku could never regret saving someone from the blonde's wrath, he had still regretted what he'd done.

He never wanted to hurt Kacchan.

Because what people didn't realize, that Izuku only knew because he'd been there since the very beginning, was that when it came to feeling, Katsuki was like a light switch. There were no shades of grey – he either felt, or he didn't, and when he did he felt with _everything._

When they'd been six and Katsuki's grandpa had passed, the boy had sobbed and begged, inconsolable in his grief. When Mitsuki-baachan and Masaru-ojiichan surprised him with a trip to Disney World, he'd been euphoric in his excitement, arms flailing and a grin so wide it seemed to split his face in two. When they'd managed to sneakily watch a horror-film that Inko most definitely would have forbidden, he'd been terrified, pale face and shaking and he'd had nightmares for weeks.

So when Izuku looks across the battle ground that was the street and met Kacchan's eyes, saw them glistening with tears, he didn't hesitate.

He knew, and he ran. 

* * *

For a brief moment, it was silent; the sound of the crowd milling around, the reporters shouting and the heroes barking orders all faded away, leaving only the sound of his lungs gasping for breath as he darted across the pavement. He wrenched his backpack off his shoulder, eyes narrowing only for a moment as he forced himself to _think—_

 _-the villain was almost entirely made of a gelatinous mass, thus physical attacks were almost entirely negated, except in the case of All Might but that was due more solidly to the air pressure from his punch and its subsequent gust of wind rather than any actual force. The only thing that seemed to stay consistent was his—_

The eyes! It took only a moment for Izuku to heave the bag as hard as he could at the villain's thankfully large eyes, letting out a sob of relief as it caused the mass to recoil, revealing Kacchan's mouth and letting the boy take in a desperate gasp of air.

He flung himself at the mud, tearing uselessly at the substance, trying desperately to burrow and find something to grab onto, the only thought in his mind to 'Save Kacchan,' playing again and again and again on a loop.

Of course, it took the blonde boy but a second to recover his breath enough to speak. "-the fuck are you doing?!" The words were rough, guttural, and usually Izuku would flinch from them, but fear made him brave, or maybe it made him numb – that was the only explanation he could give for the words he dared to respond.

"You looked scared!" Izuku said, voice shaking with exertion as he slid his hands through the sludge. "Like—like you _needed—"_

Maybe it was a blessing that his words were cut off as the villain, seemingly having regained its bearings, flung itself back and reasserted its grip on Kacchan.

"You little worm! You should've died the first time!" The mass spat, its visible eye narrowed and bloodshot. Izuku reached out again, he couldn't let him take Katsuki-!

-Only for his arm to be grabbed, and for him to be roughly flung aside in what seemed to take only a fraction of a second. The air in his lungs left him in a wheeze as his shoulder wrenched, pulsing with pain at the harsh treatment, and he was left dangling.

"What kind of phony am I? I need to practice what I preach!" A familiar voice boomed, and a moment later, he felt a body smack into him, followed by a flash of pale blond hair- Kacchan?!

What happened next was so fast that Izuku could barely comprehend it. One moment he was hanging limply with Katsuki beside him and the next blowing desperately against a sudden breeze as a bellowed, _"Detroooooooooooit…_ _ **SMASH!**_ _"_ echoed around him.

It felt as if a bomb had gone off, but there was no heat, just a sudden, unmeasurable pressure. The middle-schooler could feel his ears pop at the abrupt change, hear glass shattering in the distance, and felt his clothes press so tightly against his body they might as well have been a second skin. As the blast of air faded and Izuku was left dangling alongside his sputtering childhood friend, he couldn't help the thrum of relief that went through him.

All Might was here.

Everything would be okay. 

* * *

The next hour was not okay.

After the fuss had died down and it had begun raining (and holy shit, All Might had made it rain with a _single punch!_ ), both Izuku and Katsuki had been dropped off with the paramedics as the number one hero went to talk to the other heroes on the scene alongside the press. The paramedics had wasted no time checking them over and berating him all the while.

Izuku almost wished he was numb again, he mused as a snappish man with a head-full of feathers took his blood pressure. But this had been his mistake, his fault. He deserved to deal with the consequences.

"—of all the reckless things I have _ever_ seen! You could have been killed! You could have gotten that boy killed!" The paramedic ranted, even as Kacchan let out an irritated grunt from behind the oxygen mask that had been forced on his face. "And you didn't even think to use your quirk, you ridiculous child!"

Izuku couldn't stop himself from hunching his shoulders at that, averting his eyes even as his current medical companion made a sharp sound. He only glanced up when the medic let out a squawk, turning to Katsuki who was in the process of removing his mask, his expression twisted, teeth bared.

"You need to keep that on-!" The man began, only to be cut off.

"He's fucking quirkless." Kacchan spat, the words hoarse and, Izuku knew from experience, pained. "He—" But whatever else the boy had gone to say was cut off as he began coughing, bent over nearly in half.

Izuku felt cold.

"You stupid-! That's what the mask was for!" It took the paramedic only a moment to wrangle Kacchan back to where he'd been before, sitting on the back of the ambulance, arms crossed and expression shuttered, mask firmly over his face once again. He then spun back to Izuku, who was trying his best to disappear into the pavement.

"And _you!"_ The man hissed, pointing a clawed finger in his direction. "Quirkless?! What were you thinking!"

He hadn't been.

"Do you have a death wish?"

He did.

"You could've _died-!_ "

He wished he had.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon seemed to take a lifetime. The feathered man had eventually released him, seeing as he'd only been left with a stressed shoulder joint and some minor burns on his hands from contact with Kacchan's quirk. Even so, it seemed as though everyone had learned that he was quirkless, and had their own two cents to say regarding it.

Reckless, foolhardy, immature.

 _Useless, quirkless, Deku._

Maybe the heroes' words would've felt like knives digging into him earlier, even this morning, confirming all of his fears and every doubtful thought he'd ever had. Maybe they would have left him shaking, panicked and sobbing and miserable, inconsolable in the street.

But All Might had already done that, and Izuku?

He was so tired.

The walk home seemed a blessing. It was quiet, aside from the distant echoes of birdsong and the sound of his footsteps against the ground. The houses around him were the same ones he'd been passing for years, and he reached for that sense of familiarity and grasped it with all the strength he possessed.

Routine was good, routine was _easy._

Walk home, see mom, take a shower, go to bed.

Walk home, see mom, take a shower, go to bed.

 _(walk home_

 _see if she's breathing_

 _sit on the shower floor_

 _and spend the night staring at his ceiling)_

The rhythmic sound of his shoes scuffing against the gravel lulled him into an almost trance-like state, his surroundings blurring around him. For a moment, he wasn't Midoriya Izuku, he wasn't Deku. He was just a speck of dirt in a giant's eye, inconsequential, insignificant.

And then All Might showed up.

"I have escaped!" The booming voice announced, and the middle-schooler flinched, tripping over his oversized shoes and narrowly avoiding ending up on his knees. His eyes widened as he spun around to face the man, his mouth open.

Well, he'd been planning to apologize for inconveniencing the man earlier on his website, but maybe he could do it now?

Or maybe All Might wanted to scold him too.

* * *

 _"I can't in good consciousness say that you can be one."_

* * *

"A-All Might! I'm so—" Izuku stammered, clumsily leaning down in the beginnings of a bow only to stumble once more as the hero let out a loud choking noise, and a familiar steam filled the air again. "Ah-!"

An immediate chorus of wet coughs met his yelp, and Izuku's hands twitched towards his bag, only to fumble as he remembered that it had been an unfortunate causality of the villain attack. He had no napkins to offer this time, and instead took a single hesitant step forward.

The steam dissipated in seconds, revealing the emaciated form of All Might, hunched over once more, one gangly hand over his mouth and the other pressed against his thigh, holding up his weight. His large, pointed shoulders shook with the force of the coughs, but thankfully – maybe – they didn't last as long as they had earlier, and within moments the man was mostly upright, if not slightly hunched.

He looked just as ghastly as earlier, sweaty hair and a gaunt face, made somehow worse by the man's attempt at mimicking his heroic form's smile as his teeth were stained pink with blood. The same blood that dripped down his chin and splattered the hand that now rested at his hip. "My apologies, my boy!" All Might crowed, and Izuku was surprised to note that his voice seemed a bit more reedy in this form. He hadn't noticed, earlier. "I would have caught you sooner, but I had to deal with the press!"

"A-ah, it's perfectly fine! I'm sorry for inconveniencing you, All Might, sir!" Izuku rambled, face flushed with embarrassment because holy shit All Might had _apologized_ to him! But he hadn't done anything wrong!

All Might waved a hand absently, though the middle-schooler couldn't help but wince, as it was the one still dripping blood. "It is I who is here to apologize!" He began, and Izuku let out a slight squeak, opening his mouth to deny that such a thing was in any way, shape, or form needed, only to be cut off.

"No, no, this needs to be said! Without you, I likely wouldn't have found the strength to intervene with that villain back there!" The sickly man announced. "And for that, I must thank you – you reminded me that a hero's job is to risk their life, no matter the circumstances."

Izuku was already rapidly shaking his head though, waving his hands in front of him as thought he could physically keep the words from touching him. "N-no, no, it was all my fault that it happened anyway, and I just got in the way, I was, was _useless-!_ "

"Hardly!" The word seem to ring in his ears. "You, quirkless, clumsy you, were the only one to act! An agency's worth of heroes on the scene, and only the powerless middle-schooler had the guts to do anything about it! And that, my boy—" The hero paused, pointing a finger in his direction. "That was what spurred me to act."

"But—but I just got in the way!" Izuku protested, stepping back, only for the hero to mimic him and stride forward. "I didn't even think!"

"But that's just it! Every great hero's story starts somewhere, and most of them start with a single statement – that their feet moved before they could think. The urge to protect, to help, was so strong in them that they didn't even hesitate."

Why did the words hurt so much to hear? Izuku's knees were shaking so bad that he was afraid he would fall, his hands curled so tightly into his uniform he feared it would rip. He should be happy, right?

"And that's what happened to you, isn't it?"

And suddenly he was desperate for silence, for the man to stop talking, because he couldn't say that, he _couldn't-_

"You, my boy, can be a hero."

The words are the final push, and Izuku can't help the whine that escapes him as his knees give out and he falls to the ground, tears spilling from his eyes. A sob shakes his body as he curls into himself, hair hiding his eyes. He isn't sure he could verbalize what he was feeling if Kami himself had asked, unable to swallow down the muddled ball of _disbeliefregretexcitementshockdenialhopeplease_ that had carved out a cave behind his ribs.

* * *

No one had ever said that to him before.

Not Kaa-san.

 _"I'm sorry, Izuku, I'm so sorry-!"_

Not his dad.

 _"What, are you retarded as well as quirkless? Of course you need a quirk."_

Not the counselors at school.

 _"Midoriya, really, you need to be realistic here. U.A., Shiketsu, they all have requirements you just don't… meet."_

Not his classmates.

 _"Whaaat? Deku wants to be a hero? Were talking about the same guy, right?!"_

Certainly not Kacchan.

 _"If you want to be a hero so badly, you might as well do the world a favor and take a swan dive off the roof!_

Not even All Might had-

 _"It's not bad to dream, but you have to be realistic."_

* * *

But he'd… he'd changed his mind, Izuku realized numbly. If- if he was being honest, (and the man certainly wasn't one to mince words to preserve his feelings), than he… than he really _believed—_

Another shuddering sob left his mouth, but for the first time in a long time, the tears tasted like hope.

* * *

All Might gave him only a moment to cry before he opened his mouth to speak yet another set of world-shattering words.

"And I believe you are the one who should inherit my power!"

Now it was the middle-schooler who was coughing, desperately trying to swallow down the burn in his throat as he looked up quickly enough that his neck let out a rather alarming pop. " _What!?"_

The emaciated man let out another rough chuckle, placing his hands on his hips and grinning. "What do you mean, 'what'? Don't your ears work, kid?" He asked. "I'm talking about my quirk, of course!" And for a moment Izuku was at a loss for words because _how could he say that so casually?!_ All Might's quirk was one of the most widely debated mysteries in all of Japan, maybe even the whole world! There were people out there who would sell their firstborn for any concrete knowledge of it once-so-ever. But regardless, if there was anything Izuku was good at, it was words, and he found his after a beat of silence.

"But- but I'm… quirkless?" They were not the most eloquent of words, however. "I don't… I don't understand—"

The hero let out an aggrieved grunt which stopped abruptly as the man began to cough again. The sound alone was enough for Izuku to stiffen, hands twitching nervously as he eyed the man, the wet hacking noises causing the hair on his arms to raise. All the boy could hope was that he wouldn't end his day having to call the number one hero an ambulance. Thankfully, All Might recovered with ease this time and was scowling down at him a moment later. "I may keep a fair few secrets, but I am not a liar!" Izuku let out a strangled noise of surprise on that because _oh god no,_ he was not trying to imply that All Might was lying-! "If I say that you can inherit my quirk, then you can!"

"Nonono I didn't mean that! I meant, more, like—" The boy cut himself off, scrubbing the tears off his face with a frustrated swipe of his sleeve. "I- no one knows exactly what your quirk is, and quirks can only really passed down genetically… though there are a fair amount of documented cases of people having 'copying' quirks in which they can mimic or borrow another's quirk through effecting their quirk factor. Even more rare is the ability to pass on genetics, though there was the incident with the villain Bio-Weapon who had the ability to pass on viruses that she created with her biokinesis—"

"…Kid…"

"-so I guess there is a precedent in passing down biological components but there hasn't been one that I've heard of where someone can somehow give a quirk to someone and I am fairly certain that I would have found it, unless the publication was particularly obscure… I guess there is also the case that it could have been published in a language that wasn't well spoken, making it harder to translate it—"

"…Kid?"

"—But with as much research as I have done into the subject that seems incredibly unlikely that I wouldn't have found it anyway. It is also possible I guess that such information would be highly coveted and maybe even dangerous, so perhaps there is the possibility that it was purposefully kept out of the media? Actually considering how little is known about your quirk, that seems fairly likely because that degree of ignorance in the media is pretty rare—"

Izuku recoiled back as a hand was suddenly waving in front of his face, pausing for a moment and blinking blearily at it. What-? Oh. _Oh._ The middle-schooler's face immediately began to burn as he realized that he'd been muttering again, and was immediately hit with the overwhelming urge to sink into the ground and suffocate inside the concrete. Maybe he could find the sludge villain again and ask him for a redo, because obviously he should've drowned earlier and saved himself the embarrassment.

"How do you do that without taking a breath?" All Might mused, shooting him a bewildered look even as he straightened back to a standing position, wiping absently at the blood on his chin. "No matter! As I was saying before… _that,_ I am no liar! My quirk is one of a kind in that it is passed from holder to holder, like the Olympic torch. It is no mere super-strength or enhancement quirks like tabloids often say."

Face still feeling uncomfortably warm, Izuku nodded as the man paused in his speech, thankful that little more was said about his mishap. "If it isn't one of those though, then what is it?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowing slightly. There was no way that All Might didn't have some degree of invulnerability or enhancement - Izuku had seen dozens of videos of the hero straight up walking through fire, and coming out the other side remarkably not crispy. Unless his quirk had a negation factor? But negation-based quirks usually only applied to quirk-related energies, not natural ones...

"The quirk is called One for All." All Might continued. "It is a power that has been passed from generation to generation, each previous holder harnessing and cultivating the energy before sending it on to their successor – and that is where you come in, my boy."

Maybe Izuku was actually suffocating in the underpass, and this was all just a very vivid hallucination in his final moments.

"I want you to inherit my power, and become my successor. What do you say?" The man glowed as he asked, even framed against the evening sun as he was. The harsh shadows made him look ghostly, throwing the sharp lines of his face into stark relief, but the smile that crossed his face, even in this starved, bony form, was All Might's smile. The smile that Izuku had been seeing since he was a toddler, the smile that was plastered all over his walls, the smile that got him out of bed in the mornings and convinced him to take just one more step, to go just one more day.

And every part of Izuku wanted to say yes. Wanted to sob at this hero's feet, wanted with every inch of his being to thank him on bended knees because this was everything he had ever wanted, all he had ever wanted was the _chance_ and this was _it._ All he had to do was say yes.

But, he hesitated.

Because Midoriya Izuku had an expiration date.

The realization hit him with all the gentleness of a battering ram. Izuku had a couple years left at best, with the way his mother had been going. He was living on borrowed time until the day when he woke up to his mother's cooling corpse and was finally able to follow her into death. Every day was a day closer to his inevitable end.

And if he became All Might's successor, he couldn't do that.

The thought of not going with his mom was so alien that he couldn't wrap his head around it. It had been a fact, for him, for nearly five years now. She would go, and he would go. He lived for her and he'd die with her. He was never going to see old age, was never going to graduate high school and get a job or live a long life, and he didn't _want_ to. The thought of having to scrape by another year, even, another year of lonely nights and burnt hair and covering bruises and standing outside his mom's door just to see the rise and fall of her chest and trying to pretend that he doesn't hear her crying at night, and it ached.

* * *

" _You can be a hero!"_

* * *

Izuku wanted to be a hero. He had always wanted to be a hero. Had wanted nothing more in his entire life than the opportunity to do so. He just wanted to be useful, wanted to know that he had done something worthwhile, changed someone's life, did more than just skulk along alone, unwanted, and unnecessary.

He wanted to be a hero so much that it _burned_ , a fire lit inside of his very lungs that left him sweltering and gasping for air. There was nothing in this world he wouldn't do, if it just meant that he could be a hero.

But there was, Izuku realized with a numb certainty. Because how could he be one, when all he wanted was for it to end? How could he help anyone when the only person he ever tried to help was himself? Izuku knew he was selfish, a selfish, useless, worthless waste of space and he couldn't save anymore.

 _He couldn't even save himself._

He… he needed to say no. He needed to tell All Might no. But the words wouldn't even crawl up his throat, wouldn't form in his chest. This was everything he'd ever wanted in his entire life on a silver platter and he needed to say **no.**

What could he even do?! Take All Might's power, completely abuse the trust he gave him, and then off himself with it a month later? That was far beyond cruel, and Izuku couldn't do that to anyone, let alone him—

But he couldn't say no, he _couldn't._

Izuku needed to think.

"Can—" The boy began, only to wince as his voice cracked midway through. "I… can I think about it?" And kami above he was mortified because how rude was he? To look in the face of his hero and say 'maybe?'

All Might seemed visibly taken aback, his hooded eyes widening in surprise. The hand which had been absently scratching at his chin lingered in the air for a moment, before falling back to the man's side. "A-Ah, I mean, of course, my boy! It is a very important decision after all, I suppose I can't blame you for taking the time to mull it over."

Izuku didn't realize he was holding his breath until it left him in a shudder – All Might was too kind. Just the thought made his eyes sting again, but he stubbornly held back the tears – the last thing the number one hero needed was to deal with him having a meltdown.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't mean to seem ungrateful-!" He insisted, lip quivering despite his best efforts, and the hero shook his head in response.

"Do not worry! I should have expected as much, especially with all that mumbling earlier." All Might replied, leaving Izuku wondering just what _that_ was supposed to mean. "Here, I'll give you my contact information."

And Izuku was pretty sure his soul left his body for a moment there because holy shit! He was getting All Might's contact information! Him! Izuku! Still, he had enough brain cells left to reach a shaking hand into his pocket and pull out his phone, wincing as he remembered that he had an All Might case and handing All Might his All Might cased phone was beyond embarrassing.

"Ha, you really are a fanboy!" The man chuckled, before squinting down at the phone. "Now where do I…" He trailed off for a moment before typing something in and letting out a satisfied hum before tossing the phone back.

The boy squeaked, flailing his hands in a desperate attempt to catch his phone before it hit the ground, and letting out a sigh of relief as he managed it. There was absolutely no way he could've afforded to get it fixed again after last month.

It was with unbridled curiosity that Izuku glanced down at his screen, which was open to the 'new contact' page. The number was a local one which shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, but perhaps more interestingly—

"Who is Yagi Toshinori?" He asked, glancing up at the taller man. All Might seemed stumped for a moment before reaching up to scratch at his nose, looking almost… embarrassed?

"That would be me. Or, rather, my civilian name. Feel free to call me by it when I'm in this form." All Might- or, rather, Yagi-san explained.

Izuku was physically incapable of handling the realization that he not only knew about All Might's quirk, but All Might's _name._ His friends on the hero forums would be so jealous if, you know, he could tell them.

"Oh! Its, um, nice to meet you, Yagi-san!" Izuku quickly leaned forward, bowing as best as he could from his position on the ground. The hero grinned down at him, giving him a thumbs up with a hand still stained red with blood.

"You too kid!"

From there, everything went by in a blur. He'd somehow managed to get back to his feet, thanking Yagi for his time without giving himself whiplash from nodding so much, and agreed to contact the man over the weekend. The two had parted ways, with Izuku turning back onto the well-traveled road to his house, and All Might going the opposite direction.

It seemed like a dream. He could barely believe that today had actually happened, be it in the sense of a nightmare or a dream come true. More than anything, he felt listless, like a wrung out towel. He was nearly stumbling over his own feet by the time he was made it up the steps and to the front door of his apartment, fishing the key out of his pocket with a practiced hand.

The door opened easily, revealing the entrance hall, left dark in the early evening. Calling out a quiet, "I'm home!" he closed the door behind him and for a moment just listened. The house was nearly silent, aside from the hum of background noise that never truly disappeared, from the neighbor's muffled TV to the distant buzz of traffic. Kaa-san must be asleep.

Izuku sighed, sliding out of his shoes with practiced ease before turning down the hall, a familiar sense of anxiety curling in his gut as he stopped outside of her door.

 _he was always so scared to open it_

 _what if something had happened_

what would he do without her?

Slowly, he turned the knob and pushed it open a crack, just enough to peek his head inside. Izuku easily spotted the figure curled up on the bed, the silhouette barely visible with the light from the hall. He waited a moment, straining his eyes as he watched, until he saw it move; the covers rising and falling, if only a bit.

Kaa-san was breathing. Izuku sighed, near boneless with relief.

"Goodnight." He whispered, closing the door behind him, and for a moment just—standing. He rested his head against the door frame and listened to the sound of his lungs inflating and deflating. He breathed.

Walk home, see mom, take a shower, go to bed.

Walk home, see mom, take a shower, go to bed.

Walk home, see mom, take a shower, go to bed.

For now, he'd follow the routine. He could hardly do anything else – his brain felt like cotton at this point, soft and malleable and capable of little more than existing. He was tired in a way that made him want to open the door back up and creep into Kaa-san's bed like he was eight years old again. He just wanted to sleep knowing that she was next to him, a constant in a world that seemed to be moving too fast for him to catch up.

So he'd shower, maybe heat up a cup of ramen, and lay down in his bed and try to pretend the world didn't exist for a few hours.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow, Izuku would decide.

* * *

This chapter was written s o much easier than the last one, though I'm still not 100% happy with it. I'm more excited for the next chapter, because that is when we get into the Fun Stuff.

My inability to strike words on here is really cramping my stylization vibe as well :c if you see any non-capitalized line, it was probably originally struck through, so my bad if I missed it.

This chapter was originally about half this size but it got a bit out of hand. So much for my "I write 3-4k words a chapter" things, hm~?

In any case! Thank you all for your support, and feel free to let me know if you have questions, comments, or concerns!

Bonus: I have a tumblr, if any of you guys feel like hitting me up! My main url is Lagpie, though you can also find my art-blog at arden-arts.

 **Song of the Chapter:** _'Cain and Able'_ by Josh Kelley


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Warning: Suicidal ideation and mention of prescription drug abuse.**

* * *

 _"Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time."_

-Ransom Riggs

* * *

There is a kind of blankness in sleep that is hard-won – a moment in time and space where everything ceases to exist and the only thing you have to do for hours, for eternities, is breathe – softly, slowly. In, and out.

It's instinct, almost infantile, something all people can do naturally.

The last time he unlocked his phone, it read 4:23am.

Izuku can't sleep.

That's not quite accurate though, he supposes. He's perfectly capable of sleeping, enjoys it even – he's not prone to nightmares, doesn't really toss and turn, and hasn't sleep-walked in years. He's a peaceful sleeper, and an easy bed mate; he's had to be, as much as he sneaks in to sleep beside his mom.

Falling asleep is another matter entirely.

It's not quite insomnia – it's not as though his eyelids are weighted, that the abyss calls him and he can't hear it. He's tired, he's exhausted, he wants with every aching bone and twinging burn of his body to do nothing more than let go and fucking _sleep_ , but his mind won't stop. It can't stop. It runs around and around in circles until he's ten feet into the ground and digging further and deeper still until he can almost feel the blood welling up underneath his nails.

Another sigh. He presses the home button. 4:36am.

The beginnings of sunlight sneak from between the slats of his blinds, turning the darkened room a dusty grey. If he squints he could probably make out the dust motes dancing in the chill of the early morning. He'd laid down at 10:30, but for once – out of sheer stubbornness, if not exhaustion, forced himself to stay in bed for at least a few hours.

Izuku had read a study once that even if you don't sleep, just laying still with your eyes closed will let your body rest better than if he forced himself onto his computer like he usually does, filling the hours by scrolling through the hero forums and watching 'Top Ten All Might Saves' compilations on youtube until he's blurry eyed and dizzy with sleep deprivation. But honestly—

A twinge in his chest, and a swooping sensation in his stomach.

The last thing he wants to think about is All Might.

It's stupid, and more than that its childish, and he _knows_ that – knows he can't avoid it, that he has to face the music and make a decision-

 _It was never a decision he had to make_

 _Oh god what is he going to do what is he going to_ _ **say**_

 _Wouldn't it have been easier if he'd just jumped? Doesn't he want it to be easy-?_

A low groan of frustration leaves his mouth, and Izuku presses his palms to his face, against his eyes harder and harder until black spots begin to form. He was almost fifteen now and he needed to act like it. He wasn't a kid anymore! He couldn't just- just bury his head in the sand and hope the world would wash away the imprints he made like it always did. He'd messed up, he'd – somehow, _miraculously_ , managed to- to dupe All Might into thinking he would make a good candidate to _inherit his power holyshithestillcouldnotbelieve-!_

A deep breathe. Okay. Okay, cool, he needed to think. The middle-schooler scoffed at the thought, taking his hands away from his face and instead turning to face the wall, eyes trailing up the chipped paint until he met the eyes of the closest All Might poster, its wide grin looking almost mocking in the dim morning light.

All he does is think. All he _ever_ does is think. A constant stream of all the things he did wrong that day, all the things he wished he hadn't said and all the things he wished he did, all the mistakes he made and all the things he needed to do and oh god there were so many things that needed to get done—

His mind is always _racing._ Whether its combing over data or the days events, filing certain things he's noticed or remembered off to the side for further inquiry or thinking about the latest journal he'd written or the newest one he wants to, oh and he was supposed to respond to his contact for that essay he was working on about the modern complications that have erupted due to the legal codes that were pushed through during the early Golden Age of Japanese heroics. And he needed to stop by the pharmacy tomorrow to pick up Kaa-san's refill for her Metoclopramide and Duloxetine and on top of that he needed see if he had any extra notebooks stashed somewhere so he could begin re-writing his journal. And then—

And then. All Might.

Or, he supposed, Yagi. It felt like he'd spent half of the last few hours doing nothing but studiously avoiding thinking about the hero, his mind cringing away from the image of the man, hunched over and heaving with the force of his coughs, and the way his hands had glistened red with blood.

He could almost smell it, the copper tang mixed in with the sour scent of vomit. He smelled it at least a few times a week after all.

He hoped Kaa-san was sleeping okay.

4:59am.

Kami, this was worse than usual. Izuku usually managed to pass out by 3:30 or so, usually 4:00 by the latest and that was on regular days and not the clusterfuck that today (or, he supposed, yesterday) had been. And Izuku really was exhausted – his hands still ached, raw against his sheets from Kacchan's quirk, his shoulder throbbing from All Might moving him out of the way, and his pride was cracked six ways to Sunday and he was _tired._ He just wanted the world to stop for a minute.

For a moment, roughly two hours ago, he'd considered – well. Back when the insomnia (it wasn't insomnia, he was just- his mind was just stupid and it was his own fault for not being able to deal with it) first starting getting bad, on the really terrible nights he'd sneak into his mom's room and take one of her Vallium – he didn't do it often, and he knew it was terrible and Kaa-san would be heartbroken and disappointed if she found out, but he'd been twelve years old and desperate with the need to just – just stop the world for a minute, to just close his eyes and pretend that the walls weren't caving in and the maybe for a moment everything would be okay he just wanted to sleep he just wanted it to stopstop _stop—_

So he'd take one, sneak it from her room when she was out cold, and enjoy a single night of emptiness. But then he'd starting doing it once a week, and then every couple nights, and he was _sleeping_ , but then he'd come home one day to his mom arguing with her pharmacist on the phone.

Inko had run out of her prescription early, and the doctors refused to refill it until when it was originally scheduled to be.

Izuku had sat in his room and cried so hard he threw up, and spent the next week wide awake and shaking, jumping at every noise and so cold he was half tempted to knock on Kacchan's door because the burning wouldn't hurt half so much as the regret.

So, no. He wouldn't. Never again.

5:12am. Screw it. Izuku let out another sigh and pushed himself into a sitting position, blearily glaring around at his room. The comfort he usually found in the many examples of All Might regalia seemed absent for once – instead, he could feel a hundred sets of eyes burrowing into him, judging.

A shiver wracked his frame, and Izuku glanced around nervously before tugging his throw blanket around his shoulders and sliding his legs out from under the comforter. The wooden flooring felt like ice under his bare feet, and the middle-schooler let out a hiss.

It was easy, even as fatigue seemed to weigh his weary body down, to tip toe around his room and the discarded clothes on the floor to plop himself at his desk and reach blindly for the power button on his computer.

It took only a moment for the screen to cast its light onto the room, and Izuku found himself face to face with another grinning picture of All Might, clad in his Silver-era outfit with the quote, "It's fine now. Why? Because I am here!" outlined beneath his smiling visage in bright yellow letters. The temptation to just shut the monitor back down and climb back in bed and try just one more time to get some rest crossed his mind, but—

* * *

 _"My respiratory system was nearly demolished – I lost one lung, and the other is only partially functional. My stomach was completely removed. I can only hold up my other form for hero work for about three hours a day."_

* * *

But Izuku had work to do.

 _A decision to make._

* * *

 **Search:** living without a stomach

 **Search:** Gastrectomy

 **Search:** life after gastrectomy

 _"-_ _each day might be a struggle. Some days, it takes all one's energy to consume enough calories to get through the day. It is not simply about putting food into your body or "just eating a little more;" it requires tremendous strategizing and effort—"_

 **Search:** lung damage

 **Search:** having only one lung

 **Search:** what organs can you live without

 **Search:** Pneumonectomy

 _-one recipient stated that, "My heart is pumping that much harder to try to oxygenate my blood and my left lung is working that much harder, I'm just tired a lot, all the time."_

 **Search:** heroes with disabilities

 **Search:** All Might injury

 **Search:** all might quirk

 **Search:** quirks that can be passed on

 **Search:** transferable quirks

 **Search:** post-gastrectomy diet

* * *

By the time the clock read 8:00am, Izuku felt far more awake than he had before, and also remarkably more empty despite the five—six? Cups of tea he'd had in the interim. His tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper.

 _He just wanted to sleep—_

The desk in front of him was covered in printer paper, article after article after word document printed out and haphazardly filed together into an empty binder he'd had in an errant attempt to organize the cacophony that was making up his brain at the moment. Izuku had been half tempted to make some kind of graphic to slide into the front pocket but it seemed… crass, almost.

The one he'd made on his mom had been plain as well.

Izuku let out a soft hum as he stretched his arms out above him, wincing as his knuckles popped and his shoulder let out an aggrieved twinge at the treatment – it wasn't like he wasn't used to mildly-consistent aches and pains but it was usually of the cuts and bruises and burns variety, and less of the almost-dislocated-joint kind. Ouch.

But he supposed he shouldn't complain. He… what he felt (what ever he felt) had always been nothing compared to the pain his mom was in. And now, he knew, the pain All Might was in.

The realization of that felt remarkably like nausea.

How long did All Might spend putting his body through hell? How on earth was he capable of fighting like that when he so, so obviously malnourished? Malnourished and sickly and in copious amounts of pain and likely exhausted with bad blood pressure and not enough oxygen intake and Izuku wanted to, he wanted to—

He kind of wanted to shake the man and cry a little bit and tell him he didn't need to do all of this. He was the number one hero, he deserved a break! All Might deserved to be able to sit and take care of himself and relax and his mom-!

He meant- All Might. All Might deserved… so much better.

And now Izuku had to think. Because he'd just assumed he'd somehow managed to- to hoodwink All Might, Yagi, into thinking he was somehow worthy of receiving his power, like it was just a spur of the moment decision the man had made before he got to know just how useless Izuku really was. But if he was in that much pain, then maybe he was looking to retire?

The thought seemed ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. All Might had been around since before Izuku had even been born, he'd been the apple of his eye for his entire life, long before Dad had left. The idea of a world without the hero, without the bright, dazzling grin and the feeling that somewhere, out there, was someone who could solve any problem that could possibly appear – it was terrifying, in a much more realistic way than most of his usual fears.

What would've happened to Kacchan if All Might hadn't been there?

(Though, admittedly, if All Might hadn't been there, Izuku would probably be dead and the slime villain would probably have been easily caught and arrested, but that was a thought for tomorrow night.)

Still, the scenario gave him a heady sense of déjà vu – one whose origin he could pinpoint with ease. He could still vividly remember the last year before his mom had finally agreed to stop working and file for disability. She'd worked herself to the bone, spent each day toiling away amidst the exhaustion and chronic pain and come home and tried to cook dinner and put on a smile for him. He'd spent night after night listening to her beleaguered breathing, her stilted, muffled sobbing, and his heart had broken for her.

He was so far beyond thankful when she'd finally agreed to _rest –_ so what if they couldn't afford new clothes? If they couldn't afford cable and they had to buy all their food on a strict budget, and maybe some days they didn't really have enough to eat three meals a day? She was better. She had more color in her face, and she was happier. He was happier for her.

Who was there to tell All Might he was allowed to rest?

It was probably unbelievably improper of him, or- or rude to even think about it, because he shouldn't assume that All Might wasn't taking care of himself-!

* * *

 _"But that smile? It's to hide this. The pain and the fear and the disappointment. There's nothing heroic about it."_

* * *

But Izuku couldn't help but worry.

And if All Might was looking for a successor so he could take a step back and relax and heal, then—well, Izuku couldn't just… he couldn't just tell him no and make the man _suffer,_ but still—

Izuku balled both of his hands up into fists, dug his nails into his palms until it hurt and tried to force himself to calm down. He wanted to scream and god he kind of wanted to pull a Kacchan and hit a wall or something. He felt like a can of pop that someone just kept shaking and shaking but never popped the tab and one day he was just going to be shaken so hard that all the built up pressure would make him explode and they'd be cleaning bits of him off the walls.

He was tired. He was so, so tired.

Izuku needed to know more. Needed to know specifics. How was the quirk passed on? How long did the process take? Side effects? Components of usage? Would he start to change forms like All Might had? How exactly would he explain suddenly having a quirk? How did the process effect the body? Would All Might be sharing power or somehow generating additional energy?

And, well, the thing is – he 500% had a way to ask these questions to the single person in the world who could answer them. But, well.

 _OhKamiabovetherewasnowayhecouldtextAllMight!_ Texting All Might! He had _All Might's_ number! Knew his civilian name! He was still in shock!

Deep breathes. Fanboy later, serious stuff now.

( _All Might's number!)_

Honestly the thought of facing All Might, even over text, was beyond intimidating – regardless of what the man had claimed, Izuku knew he hadn't made a great showing. In the hour or so he'd been in contact with the hero, All Might had seen him vomit, cry, shout at him, mutter, cry again, and had seen just how much of a hero otaku he was. It was embarrassing, and even if All Might's eyes had lacked judgement – mostly, at least – Izuku couldn't help but feel as though the man would second guess his choice the moment he got to know him.

Most people did.

Izuku knew he wasn't a good person. He honestly had no value – what did he do? Argue about heroes on the internet? Sure, his mom loved him, and he loved her for it, but that's just who she was – she would probably love anyone if given the opportunity. He was petty and selfish and over-emotional and he lied and he was a coward and he was _useless_ , and Izuku didn't know what he would do if All Might realized it. If his hero looked down at him with the same eyes he'd seen over and over again for years, from his teachers and classmates, from his neighbors, from his dad, from _Kacchan—_

He couldn't do it.

 _How far can someone bend before they break?_

But he had an obligation. He had to give All Might an answer, which would involve texting him one way or another. So he might as well act like the hero his hero thinks he is, at least for a minute, and face his fears. And ask his questions.A minute passed. And then another.

Izuku muffled a scream into his hands.

Its just a phone! He texts people all the time! Honestly, he's better at texting than talking! Why isn't this easy!

(Well, he knows why its not easy, but its supposed to be – it easy for everyone else. He just has to over-complicate everything).

The chibi All Might on his phone case star at him apathetically from its place on his desk, and Izuku felt his fingers twitch. It would be quick. Just a quick question. Maybe the number wasn't even right. Maybe All Might had actually changed his mind at the last minute but was too nice to tell him so he just put in the wrong number and Izuku was getting stressed out over nothing and he'd never even hear from the hero again so why was he freaking out-!

And he was crying. Again. He sighed, absently scrubbing at his face for a minute, cursing his traitorous tear ducts. After a moment, he steeled his resolve. With a single deep breath to center himself, he reached out for the phone, unlocking it with an unsteady hand.

Its easy to pull up All Might, or rather Yagi's contact information – he only has a few contacts in his phone, and two of them are his mom. The number stares back at him from the dimmed screen, and trying to force himself to tap the button for a new message is akin to pulling teeth. When he finally does so, he can almost taste the blood on his tongue.

Like a bandaid. He just needed to do it quick.

* * *

 **Midoriya Izuku [8:43]**

Hello! How are you doing? I just had a couple questions I wanted to ask about yesterday if that was okay?

Oh wait I didn't actually say who this was I'm so sorry, it's Midoriya Izuku!

WAIT I NEVER ACTUALLY INTRODUCED MYSELF THAT WAS SO RUDE OF ME.

We met yesterday, you saved me from the slime villain?

Sorry for sending so many texts!

* * *

THAT WAS THE WORST BANDAID PULLING HE HAD EVER DONE. He could feel every metaphorical millimeter of skin separating, and the sting _persisted._ Kami he was going to suffocate himself. He was really going to do it. If All Might hadn't wanted to talk to him before, he surely wasn't going to want to now—

His phone vibrates.

Izuku shrieks and flings it across the room, where it thunks against the wall before falling with a muted thump against the bed. His heart beats heavily in his chest, audible to his ears as he stares with widened eyes at his still lit screen.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod he couldn't read it, he couldn't do it he _physically could not make himself pick up that phone—_

Another buzz sounded, slightly muffled from across the room, and Izuku let out a strangled yelp, hand spasming at his sides before he threw himself onto the bed with a single step. His shaking hands darted out, grabbing the phone even as he found himself squeezing his eyes shut. This was somehow a million times more intense than facing certain death had been yesterday.

But, then again, this mattered more to him than dying.

A shudder ran through him, the tension creeping up his spine vertebrae by vertebrae. What if it was a wrong number? What if All Might was irritated or frustrated and it was just a 'sorry kid never-mind,' text? What would he do?

Get it over with. Stop being a coward, for once in your life.

He unlocked the phone.

* * *

 **Yagi Toshinori [8:45]**

haha its fine, dont worry about it!

id prefer not to have this conversation over text though, are u free today?

 **Midoriya Izuku [8:48]**

Oh I'm so sorry I should have thought of that!

I am 500% free! My school only has Saturday classes twice a month.

 **Yagi Toshinori [8:49]**

thats great! u live in musutafu right? have you ever been 2 zakuzaku

 **Midoriya Izuku [8:50]**

The ice cream place? :oo

 **Yagi Toshinori [8:52]**

yes! its across from the pier on jinnan st

would u be able to meet there at 2?

 **Midoriya Izuku [8:52]**

Yes! Yes I can definitely do that!

Should I bring anything?

 **Yagi Toshinori [8:53]**

just ur heroic spirit! (＾＾)ｂ

 **Midoriya Izuku [9:01]**

Yes sir!

* * *

Izuku's entire face felt numb as he let the phone slip from his fingers onto his lap. He couldn't tell just what expression he was making – beyond that, he couldn't even describe what he was feeling. Something that toed the line of far too much and nothing at all, somehow.

He was going to meet up with All Might at an ice cream parlor.

 _He was going to meet up with ALL MIGHT at an ICE CREAM PARLOR_ _ **.**_

All Might! Ice cream! A casual outing where no one would be dying or crying or in some kind of peril!

What was he going to do? Oh god what was he going to say? How on earth was he expected to ask the man what he wanted to know while looking him in the face? What if something happened while they were out? What if All Might couldn't save someone because he was too busy putting up with him?

Actually, now that he thought about it, why an ice cream parlor? Because from what Izuku had read while researching gastrectomies All Might shouldn't actually be able to digest sugar. Was it just a convenient meeting point? Should he bring money? Should he bring something sugar free for All Might just in case?

Nearly vibrating with pent up energy, Izuku reached a hand up to absently rub away the remaining tear tracks from early, only to pause in surprise as the quirk of his lips.

He was smiling.

Funny, he hadn't even noticed.

* * *

HEY IM NOT DEAD. I'm just a sad, very busy college student who got more or less run over by life for awhile in a way that gave me no free time to write. I still don't actually have time to write, but my brother was just diagnosed with cancer, so I figured, 'fuck it, I can work on my dumb BNHA vent fic if I want.' TMI and all that tho.

Thank you guys so much for your continued support! Every time I see you guys leaving reviews or following the story, even though its been months since I've posted, I am absolutely overjoyed! I'm going to try my best to start responding to all comments now. I do read all of the ones you guys leave, and they mean a lot to me!

This chapter was a bit slow, which I'm sorry for. I considered just going into the actual ice cream meetup, but that would've made this chapters around 12kt words which... not my preference, needless to say :P On the bright side, if the next chapter goes as planned, you'll be seeing not only toshinori, but a special aizawa cameo~! (no promises though, as much as I have the story planned out, it tends to yank me by the chain a lot).

Also the direct quotes during the google search bit are from and ! I have been doing... so much research...

Please feel free to hit me up on tumblr, either at my main/spam acc lagpie or my art blog arden-arts! I love chattin [insert iphone okay hand emoji]

 **Song of the Chapter:** 'A Burning Hill' by Mitski


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Warnings:** Suicidal ideation

* * *

 _"At the end of the day, the questions we ask of ourselves determine the type of people that we will become."_

― Leo Babauta

* * *

It was at five minutes to 2:00pm that Izuku was finally willing to admit they he may have, just maybe, gone a bit overboard.

Earlier this morning, it had all seemed so simple – he had almost five whole hours before he had to meet up with All Might which was far more time than he needed to get ready. But then that turned very quickly into _ohgodheonlyhadfivehourstogetready!_

Past that, much of the morning was a blur of chaos. Izuku had thrown himself into the shower, nearly scalded himself by turning the water up too high and then proceeded to almost blind himself with a generous helping of 2-in-one shampoo and conditioner in his eyes. He'd managed to get his brush stuck in his hair, squirted tooth paste all over the mirror, and then faced the biggest problem of his young life thus far.

What in Kami's name was he going to wear!?

Izuku stood in the middle of his room, towel draped around his waist and his damp skin chilled even as he mournfully surveyed the explosion of clothing that now lied spread out along the floor. It wasn't like he didn't have a good selection – he hadn't exactly grown a lot in the past few years and he didn't like to throw things out until they were oh, say, riddled with burn holes. But even considering that—

Why did he have to have so much All Might merch? Okay, dumb question, especially considering the hundreds of pairs of the hero's eyes watching him at this very moment. Izuku was well aware of the fact that he could bit a bit excessive when it came to collecting things – especially All Might things. Was there something so wrong with surrounding himself with items that made him happy? The reminder that there was someone out there protecting, if not him, than the world itself?

It was kind of like a very expensive comfort blanket plastered all over his walls. And body. At most times.

Which was normally fine and great, except for the big glaring problem here: Izuku could not, in any way, shape, or form, wear All Might merch to meet up with the man himself. How weird would that be?! It wasn't like this was a convention and he was trying to get an autograph! God All Might would see just how obsessive he was and he'd be creeped out and he'd have to feign a phone call just to get away and Izuku would never be able to leave his house again because the embarrassment would literally keep him under his bed until he died—

So. No All Might merch. Which left… a few interesting choices. Izuku liked his shirts – they were funny, no matter what anybody else said. A t-shirt that said 'T-Shirt?' Classic. Dadaism at its finest. But All Might actually, you know, spoke English so that was maybe not the best option. It was kind of cheesy, after all.

But the problem was that he didn't really… own much else. Sure there was other hero merch – he had a nice Present Mic hoodie he'd won in an online raffle and that first edition Hawks t-shirt he'd scored at a thrift store down the street, but that was almost worse! He couldn't show up wearing another hero's merchandise! What if All Might thought he was trying to- to make him jealous or something, like there was any conceivable world in which All Might wasn't his all time favorite hero in all of the history of heroics!? It was almost heresy!

Why hadn't thought of this earlier? Okay, sure, it wasn't like he had many situations in which he was trying to dress to impress, but still! Eventualities, it was always good to plan for eventualities! Maybe he could just wear his school uniform.

No, no, that was stupid, All Might would wonder why he was wearing it when he already said he didn't have class today… There had to be something he could wear.

And he found something to wear eventually – eventually being nearly three hours later, after Izuku may or may not have tried on nearly every article of clothing that he owned twice. And then he'd had to scavenge the apartment for another backpack (may his old one rest in watery pieces), which had taken awhile. He'd found his primary school one (thank the gods, it was a plain blue color) shoved behind the old vacuum in the hall closet, and stashed his newly filled binder and a couple blank notebooks inside, just in case.

Somewhere in the middle of this fiasco, Izuku had managed to catch a glance of himself in the mirror, and well that wasn't going to do either. The night devoid of sleep hadn't done anything to help his pallor, and the bags under his eyes were tinted an unhealthy blue. He didn't want All Might to think he was already slacking off or was going to be too tired to pay attention or- or whatever else he might look like! So he'd had to sneak into his mothers room to borrow a bit of her makeup.

Izuku usually just dabbed some concealer under his eyes, but today this just managed to make it look like he was wearing some garish stage makeup. So he'd frantically looked up a tutorial, which had ended up in a series of tutorials until the middle schooler found himself halfway through an article on the benefits of licorice extract to aid in the lessening of puffy eyes only to realize it was past 1:30pm and he hadn't even left.

Cue a heart-attack inducing half hour in which Izuku managed to run out the door, catch the nearby train, and somehow make it to the street adjacent of the shop only seven minutes late, sweat matting his bangs against his forehead and his lungs burning with the short sprint he'd forced them to endure.

He was so stupid, he was so stupid, what was he thinking, All Might was going out of his way to help Izuku and he couldn't even have the common decency to be on time, he was going to be lucky if the man had even stayed and he would've been better not too because Izuku wasn't even worth the effort of walking here—

"Young man!" A booming voice called from somewhere in front of him, causing Izuku to let out a startled wheeze, bent over nearly in half and gripping his chest. "I thought you might have been lost!"

And there All Might stood, a little ways down the sidewalk, a single large hand raised up in a wave. The man looked much as he had yesterday, shoulders hunched and skin pale, drowning in an oversized outfit and hair a mess. Even so, a slightly ghastly looking grin was spread across the hero's lips, brightening his features. Even with the pallor of sickness, something about the man's smile transformed his whole countenance – it looked like it belonged on his face.

"A-All Might-!" Izuku began to shout instinctively, only to cut himself off as All Might began frantically waving his hands, dragging one across his neck in a clear 'shut up' moment. "—is, a, uh, on the news!" He finished weakly, eyeing the other few pedestrians nearby. A woman walking her dog gave him a weird look, but otherwise no one else seemed to notice the odd encounter. Jeeze, he needed to think! This was the man's secret identity! He'd only known him for a day and he'd already come so close to ruining everything!

All Might let out a deep chuckle, casually walking up to the middle schooler. Izuku had to crane his neck to look up at the man's face; it really was insane just how tall the hero was – even if he seemed smaller in this form, he still had to be a good 7ft tall. Was that part of his quirk? Increased mass to compensate for the force required behind the movements he made? But, there was no time for theories. He had an apology to make.

Izuku bowed so sharply that he nearly tipped over, face flushed a deep red in mortification. "I-I'm so sorry, for, um, that! Sir! And being late! …sir!"

He couldn't see what expression the hero made, but he let out another bark of laughter before reaching down and roughly mussing Izuku's hair, which holy shit! All Might was touching him! And he wasn't even vomiting this time!

"Stand up straight kid, it's okay!" All Might crowed, the final phrase being said in English. "Call me by my civilian name when I'm like this, less likely to cause a scene."

Izuku straightened up before bobbing his head, a determined expression flashing across his features. He could do this! His first mission from All Mi- er, Yagi-san! He just had to make a mental adjustment, and start equating the less muscular form with a different name so he wouldn't slip up even under duress! Maybe he could make flash cards later, just to make sure. "Yes, sir, Yagi-san, sir!"

Yagi scratched his chin, glancing down at Izuku who was still nodding. "You can drop the sir, too. You aren't in class." The middle-schooler squeaked, face flushing. It seemed too familiar! This was Number One Hero All Might after all, but the man had asked and it wasn't like he was ever going to tell him no.

"Let's go then!" Yagi clapped him on the back before beginning to walk down the street, heading in the direction Izuku had been going prior. He had to take twice the amount of steps he normally would to keep up with the man's long stride. "It's just over here."

"Um, have you been here before then?" Izuku asked hesitantly, gripping tightly onto the straps of his backpack as he struggled to keep pace. He'd wanted to research the store's menu before he'd left, but needless to say he'd been a bit distracted. He hoped it wasn't very expensive, at least.

"Of course! Not since I went overseas, though." The hero replied. "I suggest their slushies, if you don't know what to get!"

Izuku perked up, curiosity thrumming through him. "So you can—" But he immediately cut himself off before the question could leave his lips, face flushing again as he realized what he'd almost asked so callously. He couldn't just, just ask the man about his dietary restrictions! And Izuku knew that he could get a bit, well, obsessive when it came to his research, he didn't want to creep the man out by how much he'd delved into the situation beforehand. But he had been worried about whether All Might could have sweets or not…

Yagi glanced down at him, humming enquiringly. "Young Midoriya?" He prompted.

"Ah- sorry, it was, never mind, it was rude-!" Izuku winced, turning his attention down to his feet, scuffing his soles against the concrete as he walked. All Might scoffed from beside him.

"Come on my boy, I invited you out to ask questions! Where's that courage I saw yesterday?" Izuku abruptly flashed back to the earlier request to 'bring his heroic spirit,' and deflated a bit. All Might wouldn't really be mad, would he? And if he was then Izuku would just remember to never, ever in his lifetime ever bring it up again.

He took a deep breath. "It's just, well, I was wondering whether or not you could have sugar?"

Yagi paused for a moment, his stride missing a beat before continuing. "If I could have sugar?"

Izuku bobbed his head once more. "Yes! I was a bit, well, I was worried because you suggested the ice cream place and I didn't want you to not be able to enjoy anything so I wasn't sure if I should pick up something sugar free and I didn't get the chance to check the menu before coming so I was curious and now I'm rambling and I can't seem to stop and I'm sorry. Sir. Yagi-san."

He really should've just jumped yesterday.

Izuku's increasing anxiety stuttered when Yagi let out a bark of laughter, this one a bit more breathy than the deeper, more typical All Might Chuckles he'd heard earlier.

"A grade-A fanboy, huh?" The man mused, and Izuku let out a slightly breathless laugh of his own, his face tinted a light pink, because Yagi's voice sounded, well—fond. Amused, but not in the way he was used to. Not like the choir of laughter in class after the teacher announced his goal to get into UA, not like Kacchan's biting delight at his tears, but more like his mother's soft smile when he'd ramble on about his newest passion project.

It felt… nice.

"I can't have a lot of sugar," Yagi continued a moment later as ZakuZaku's storefront came into view, a light pink door covered in sweets themed cartoon characters. "-but they have sugar free options here. And a little is okay." Izuku's hands itched for his binder – he had all of his research on gastrectonomies and their diets already inside, but he wanted to keep personal notes and observations as well. He'd just have to remember to add it in once he got home, if he didn't get the chance while they were out.

Yagi pushed open the door to the parlor, leaving the two of them walking into a waft a cold air. The store itself was cute – decorated in soft pastels and cutesy illustrations. It seemed like the kind of place his mom would like, but it wasn't the kind of place he would expect All Might to frequent. All Might seemed more the type for American diners and fast food meals, or maybe fancy steak houses. Even in this form, the man seemed woefully out of place amongst the frills.

Actually, as Izuku followed behind him to walk up to the counter, the man seemed a bit different than he had yesterday. When first meeting All Might and when he'd been talking to the press, the hero had been incredibly animated – a wide grin, large hand movements, a confident posture. Yagi-san didn't seem ill at ease now, ordering his treat, but he seemed quieter and almost a little uncomfortable, like a cat with tape stuck to its paws.

"Young Midoriya?" Izuku startled out of the train of thought at the sound of Yagi's voice, and looked over to see the man staring at him expectantly. Had he been talking to him!?

"A-Ah? Yes?" Yagi inclined his head towards the register, where the teenager working was looking at him expectantly. Was he supposed to be ordering?! He hadn't looked at the menu! Face feeling uncomfortably hot, Izuku waved his hands in front of him.

"I, uh, the same! As what he's having. Please." The cashier nodded, turning back to the register as he let out a soft breath of relief – crisis averted.

"That'll be 900¥." CRISIS NOT AVERTED. Izuku nearly choked at the price – what had he ordered that was so expensive?! That was worth so many packets of ramen! And he was supposed to pick up fish for dinner… He'd just have to try to find some on sale. Maybe he could tell mom he ate while he was out?

He moved to take his backpack off his shoulders to fish out his wallet, only to pause in surprise as All Might handed over a credit card, seemingly oblivious to the middle-schooler's turmoil. Was All Might paying for him!?

"Wait-!" The boy choked out, only to be studiously ignored by both the hero and the worker as the latter returned the card with a chirped, "It will be out in just a moment." Yagi gave the woman a thumbs up before walking over to stand next to the cake display.

Izuku was pretty sure he was going to have a meltdown before the day was over. His heart couldn't take this level of stress.

"All- Yagi-san, you didn't have to pay for me! I mean, thank you so much, but I can pay you back!"

All Might just seemed amused and shook his head. "No need, my boy! I was the one who invited you out after all, its my treat!"

"Are you sure? I really can pay you back, I wasn't expecting you to pay-!"

"Are you always so noisy?" The man asked, the grin on his face taking the bite out of his words even as Izuku wilted a bit at the admonishment. "I said it was my treat and it is my treat!"

Shame welled up in him, hot, heavy and familiar. He was being so ungrateful, wasn't he? He'd been late to the meeting, he'd already made the man give him more time for a question he should've been able to answer easily, and now the hero had wasted money on him and he was pestering him about it.

 _He should've just jumped—_

"Here you are, sir. And we'll have you son's done in just a moment." Another worker said, sliding a cup across the counter. This time, Izuku wasn't the only one choking though – as the employee turned away, the boy watched as All Might spluttered, eyes wide as he stared after them, a small bead of blood running down his chin and his ears a soft pink.

"A-All! Er, Yagi-san! You've got a little…" Izuku squeaked out, pointing a shaking finger at the man's face. Yagi turned to him, eyebrows still raised before he seemed to understand, sheepishly taking a napkin from the counter and dabbing at his lip.

"Thank you my boy- er, young Midoriya." He amended his address with a look shot over to the oblivious employee. Seemingly eager to change the subject, Yagi grabbed hold of the dessert he'd ordered and quickly unwrapped a straw to stick in it – it seemed to be some kind of icy, snow cone substance – a slushie, like he'd mentioned earlier. It was a vivid orange color, and the hero let out a satisfied grunt as he took a drink.

"Ahh, that hits the spot!" He announced, customary smile back on his face. Izuku couldn't help but return it – something about All Might's joy was infectious. A moment later he was handed his own dessert and followed behind the hero as he moved to leave the store.

"Are we not going to talk here?" Izuku questioned, unwrapping his own straw and taking a sip, the taste of peach dancing across his taste buds. The sweet fruity flavor lingered in his mouth after the first drink.

"Too many ears," All Might replied, his stride picking up as he turned the opposite direction down the street they'd come from. "I have just the place in mind."

The two walked side by side down the street in a silence that was oddly comfortable. Izuku was used to silence; he came home every day to a house devoid of life more often than not, the only sounds being his mother's labored breathing and the muffled noises of his elderly neighbor's soap operas through the thin apartment walls. Even amongst the general noise of school and the city, it felt quiet. Too many days spent not having a single person talk to him, of having eyes pass him over again and again. On days like those he may as well have been a ghost, haunting the life he lived.

There was a reason for his muttering, after all – over the years he'd gotten into the habit of filling that void of silence with his own voice. It was comforting to his younger self, to pretend like someone was listening when Mom was working and it had become a bad habit over the years. But he didn't feel the need to talk now; every few steps All Might's eyes would dart over to him, and something about that was reassuring. It felt like he existed in this moment - someone knew he was here.

He didn't need to say anything to feel like he was being heard for the moment.

The duo walked for a fair few minutes before the beach came into view – they had walked past the pier, which had been Izuku's initial thought for their destination, and instead came to a stop in front of, of all places, a junk yard.

For a wild moment Izuku wondered if this was somehow just all one gigantic prank as he stared over a veritable sea of rusty fridges and old tires. But surely All Might wouldn't do that, right?

Right?

"Welcome to Dagoba Municipal Beach Park!" Yagi announced, spreading his hands wide as though he was introducing Disney World rather than a trash yard. "The most desolate place in all of Musutafu!"

Actually, hadn't Izuku heard about this place before? "Isn't this the place where the strong currents bring it a lot of wreckage?"

Yagi beamed, setting one hand against his hip and gesturing wildly with the one holding his slushie. "Correct! This place used to be a beautiful beach when I was a child, but now hardly anyone comes to see it. Which is good for us, because it means no one will bother us here."

"Right!" Izuku bobbed his head. All Might was planning ahead so far! He doubted that he'd have had the forethought to pick a place like this. The middle schooler watched as the number one hero loped over to was looked like an old filing cabinet and hopped up on it with an ease that seemed at odds with the man's emaciated appearance. He settled on it, sitting down cross legged and taking a noisy slurp from his treat, before pointing to a pile of tires to his right.

"Sit down, young Midoriya, and ask your questions!" He crowed, before pausing, his brow furrowing. "…You've had your tetanus shots?"

"…Yes?" Izuku couldn't help but look at the tires in a new light at that comment – he really couldn't afford a hospital visit.

"…It should be fine!"

The middle schooler carefully walked over to the tire pile, nose wrinkling at the feeling of sand sliding into the crevices of his sneakers. He gingerly sat down amongst the rubber before looking up at the older man, eyes round and attention focused.

There was an awkward pause as the two of them just kind of… stared at each other for a moment. Yagi coughed lightly into his fist, eyes darting to the side. "You had questions?"

"Oh!" A moment of realization and a flash of embarrassment before Izuku slung his backpack off of his shoulders and into his lap. "I wrote them down in here." He popped open the binder, tongue pressed between his teeth as he flipped to the red plastic separator where he'd slotted in his questions, printed off and hole punched but sadly not laminated, as he'd wanted to write the answers down on them.

Later, though, definitely.

"…Why do you have a whole binder?" Yagi questioned, a strange, almost dumbstruck expression on his face. Izuku tilted his head, confused.

"It's easier to use than a notebook since I'll be taking things out and putting them in." Maybe All Might kept his notes on a laptop? He liked to keep digital copies as well just in case, but there was something satisfying about having it on paper in front of him.

"Uh, right. Right! So, ask away."

Izuku nodded, eyes narrowing as he looked down at his list. Should he just go through the list in the order he'd written them, or should he try to organize it better so that there was a more coherent train of thought? Maybe in order of how the subjects had been brought up prior by Yagi himself? Or maybe he should separate them into subjects so that they could completely flesh out each component before moving onto the next? Or maybe—

"Kid, seriously, just ask." All Might sighed, staring up at the sky as he took another swig of his drink. Izuku winced and let out an unsettled laugh before taking a deep breath. He would start simple.

"How is the quirk passed on?"

Yagi paused mid drink at that. "That's your first question?"

"…Yes?" Why did he seem so befuddled by that?

"Well, alright! It is passed on through the sharing of DNA – my mentor had me eat her hair." Yagi answered after a beat of silence. Izuku frowned at that.

"But isn't that dangerous? Couldn't it be passed on accidentally that way, like if you bled on a villain or someone managed to steal some hair or something?" Not to mention the thought of eating someone's hair of all things was, well, pretty gross.

"Good question!" Yagi responded in English, teeth glinting in the afternoon sunlight. "It can only be passed on intentionally, so that's not a problem."

"So do you have to purposefully imbue the DNA with your quirk? Is it like a form of radiation or thermal energy? Or is it something else, like a pheromone?"

"…Ah. I'm not… entirely sure? I think you just have to want to give it to someone, and then you've given it to them." Izuku wrinkled his nose at the lack of information that provided, but figured he could always research it more later.

"Okay, then, um, what are the side effects of taking on the quirk? Would I change in size like you do?"

All Might seemed more comfortable with that question than the last. "Well its kind of like… jumping a car. You get access to a giant well of energy but you won't be able to use it all at once. You have to have a certain level of physical fitness before you can use it without blowing your limbs off."

"Blowing my limbs off-?!"

"Anyway!" All Might continued as if Izuku hadn't spoken. "You won't change sizes either."

That one actually threw him for a loop. "So was that part of your original quirk then, the size augmentation?"

"Er, no. I was, uh, quirkless before One for All." And Izuku surely had to have heard that one because there was absolutely no way that All Might, the Number One Pro Hero had ever been quirkless, had ever been- been useless like Deku was.

"You were quirkless?!"

Yagi seemed a bit uncomfortable at that point, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "I mean, it was still pretty common back then."

"But wait, if it wasn't part of your original quirk then why would I not change size if I got it?"

"I only started 'changing sizes' after my injury. It's like I said with the pool metaphor, I'm using One for All to 'suck my gut in.'"

"So then hypothetically I could change my size?"

And so the questions went. Izuku found out that more often than not, his questions didn't have answers – All Might had been older than him when he got the quirk, and much more physically fit. It was easy to use, apparently. He hadn't thought about how Izuku would explain suddenly developing a quirk. And perhaps most importantly-

It was easy to pass on.

As the hours ticked by and the sun fell lower in the sky, the beginnings of an idea began to bloom in the back of Izuku's mind. When All Might passed his quirk on, he would be on borrowed time until he couldn't be All Might anymore.

 _He never wanted to picture a world without All Might-_

But, the man had assured him, that could be years – long enough for Izuku to be trained and ready to take his place. And Izuku would one day do the same for his own student. Obviously with the way the man said it he meant far down the line when the middle schooler was old and wizened and ready to pass on the torch, but—

But. It meant that there was a way. He'd just have to pass the quirk on before he died – whether back to All Might or if All Might changed his mind and found a better successor. He just had to last long enough to train someone else and then he could still follow his dream for a few years until it was time to go.

It was selfish. It was beyond selfish of him, it was cruel and awful and almost villainous to even consider it, to consider taking the power only with the intention to, to pass of the responsibility to someone else the moment he gave up, but, but—

Was it so wrong? To just—he could help, while he was alive. He could save people, he could be a hero, he could help take the strain off of All Might's back so that he wouldn't have to worry so much, wouldn't have to work so hard. Wouldn't it be okay?

He didn't want to say no. He didn't want to say no. Izuku, the small, smothered part of him that never really grew up enough to accept what the world threw at him, that he was useless and quirkless and that he would never amount to anything, could never save anyone, that still ached to change the world with every atom in his body—

That little part of him cried out, begged him to accept. Begged him to take a chance – he had years yet, after all. It would be okay, to be selfish for a little while, wouldn't it? As long as he helped as many people as he could along the way?

Wouldn't it be okay?

Hesitancy still roared in his heart even as the conversation died down and Yagi looked at him from his perch, his expression far more serious than it had been in the hours prior.

It clawed at his ribs even as the hero stood up, a burst of power going through him before he inflated to his heroic form, the bulky visage of All Might blooming into existence before him, causing the cabinet to sink down into the sand.

It screamed at him from within as the man held out his hand, face shadowed by the harsh rays of the setting sun.

But it quieted, as the man opened his mouth and asked—

"So, what do you say? Will you be my successor?"

And it cried, as he answered with more steel in his tone than had ever existed within his body.

"Yes!"

* * *

Izuku left the beach in a haze, his pulse thudding in his throat. Nothing felt real – not Yagi poofing back into his civilian form, coughing into a blood-speckled fist before grinning at him, and not the directions given to meet back at the beach tomorrow at 8:00am. Had he actually bowed his head, thanked All Might for coming out? Had he just walked off?

He couldn't remember.

Izuku's feet led him down the street without any input, his body completely on autopilot.

 _What was he doing?_

 _What had he done?!_

He wasn't even sure how long he'd been walking, scuffing sand-encrusted tennis shoes against the pavement. He didn't know when he'd begun crying – and why was he crying? Guilt? Joy? Disbelief? It was hard to tell.

He didn't know much of anything, really, until he found with a muted sense of surprise that he'd walked to the very edge of town, bracketed by a sagging bridge. Izuku could remember coming out here with Kacchan back when they were kids – it used to lead to the neighborhood down the way, but the place was more or less deserted now.

The bridge was actually pretty high up – he'd never really been scared of heights, not even as a kid, so he supposed he'd never taken the time to notice. It stood high above the small rushing river that led into the nearby inlet and then into the sea. Mitsuki-baachan used to get after them all the time for playing around such a dangerous area, but Kacchan had always enjoyed the rush it gave him, especially with the knowledge that they were disobeying his mom. It was an adventure, after all.

Funny, how much quieter it seemed to be so many years later. Even the sound of traffic was soft, off in the distance – cars could still pass through here, but it didn't seem like they did often.

Still feeling oddly detatched from his body, Izuku walked further down the sidewalk, trailing his fingertips against the bridge's guardrail and gazing down into the dark abyss of the rushing water below.

This wouldn't be a bad place to die, actually. Izuku paused for a moment at the thought, tilting his head and humming to himself. Actually, it really wouldn't be. He'd never known how he wanted to do it after all, not wanting it to hurt, not wanting to make a mess for anyone, and well—it was a pretty high drop. And if his body hit the water, if it went into the ocean—well, no one would have to bother with him, right? And no one really came around here, so it would be easy…

A sudden resolve overcame him – okay. So he was going to take on All Might's quirk, he was going to become a hero, become the best hero he could be – but he needed to have it all planned out. He needed to be absolutely sure.

He'd spend the next however many years making up for all the things he'd never done, all the air he'd wasted, he'd save and help as many people as he could, and then—

And then. When Kaa-san… passed, he would come here. And he'd fall.

And he'd die.

And it would be over.

Like falling asleep.

Even now, the idea was alluring – there was a part of him that yearned for that, for the absence of, well, anything. He didn't really believe in the afterlife, or reincarnation-

* * *

 _"-you might as well do the world a favor and take a swan dive off the roof! Maybe you'll get a quirk in the next life, fucking Deku."_

* * *

But sleeping? Forever? That would be nice. No nightmares, no pain, just—just sleep. Peaceful. Izuku sighed to himself as he set his backpack down on the ground against the guard rail. It looked like it would be pretty easy to just kind of sling himself over, right? Better to make sure there wasn't anything that would mess it up.

Like loose nails. (He was pretty sure he'd had his tetanus shot).

Izuku propped his arms up against the top of the railing and threw a leg over to push himself up, only to let out a high pitched yelp as out of seemingly nowhere, something wrapped tightly against his chest and upper arms, tugging him backwards.

He was immediately pinwheeling, arm flailing as best as they could from where they were pinned against his sides as he struggled to regain his balance, only to fall over in a heap on the dusty ground.

"Aaaaah, ow, ow, what-?" His sore wrist throbbed from where it pressed between his body and the pavement, and he blinked startled tears away from his eyes before anxiously looking around to see what exactly had happened. He found, to his own befuddlement, that he was wrapped up in, what, bandages?

They didn't seem to have any stretch to them though, even as he tried to wiggle out. Was he getting mugged!? Was it another villain? Panic only had a moment to begin brewing before a low voice sounded from behind him.

"Are you going to stay still, or am I going to have to call an ambulance?"

"W-what? An ambulance-!?" Izuku squeaked, wriggling slightly so that he could look in the direction of the drawling voice only to still in shock at the sight that awaited him.

It was that of a fairly tall man dressed in a black jumpsuit with a head full of long, dark and tangled hair. He'd be easily mistaken for a civilian if not for the odd, slotted yellow glasses he wore, obscuring his eyes. In fact, it was only because of those that Izuku even knew who this pro hero was—

"—E-Eraserhead?!"

* * *

HEY IM NOT DEAD. And despite me not touching this for going on seven months, this isn't abandoned! And will not be. Finals kicked my ass and family stuff as well, but I'm on summer break now and can get back to doing what I actually want to do. Also my brother's last chemo treatment was in May, woohoo!

I did lose a bit of motivation for writing in general for awhile, but I read through all of your reviews again recently and once more got the biggest heart eyes because you guys inspire me so much to keep up with this fic! Knowing it means a lot to you guys, or that you reread it or that it reminds you of songs or things makes my entire life. Thank you so much for reading and leaving reviews and favorites!

I'd apologize for the cliffhanger but I am absolutely, in no way, shape, or form sorry. I am sorry if anyone seems OOC though, I rewrote this chapter a solid 3 or 4 times and I'm still not entirely satisfied. I am very excited for the next chapter though! Gotta love that Drama.

Again, feel free to message me on tumblr! You can hit me up at my misc/spam account lagpie or my art account arden-arts. I'm always up to chat~!

 **Song of the Chapter:** 'Ready Now' by Dodie Clark


	6. Chapter 6

_"There's nothing more dangerous than someone who wants to make the world a better place."_

-Bansky

* * *

Shouta's earliest memories are of the rain.

He can recall nights spent sitting on the fire escape, letting the drops darken his hair, press dripping curls against his forehead and dampen his pajamas. The thunder would muffle the nearby sounds of alarms, of ambulances speeding down single lane streets, their lights illuminating cramped alleyways.

In a world that always seemed so _loud_ the rain was a blanket, muffling and softening everything it touched.

And so he would sit, letting the hours pass, blocking out the sounds of the busted old TV from inside the apartment, the sound of breaking bottles from the floor below, the quiet rumbling of his stomach. Moments of peace among the chaos.

He didn't have a bad childhood – it wasn't the greatest, sure, but sometimes shit happened; Shouta was going on thirty years old now, far too old to play the childhood trauma card and far too tired to care either way. In the long run, it hadn't mattered where he came from, what he was – all that mattered was who he transformed himself into, the pieces of personality and ability he beat into himself through trial and error.

But it had been what made him into a hero.

He'd never intended to go into heroics – he'd enrolled in UA because he could, because it was a good school and his grades were high enough and he wanted out of the shithole of a neighborhood he'd grown up in. Shouta wasn't ambitious – he didn't need nor want fame, fortune or power. If anything, the reason he ended up a hero at all was because at fourteen Hizashi was a pretentious dick and Shouta, even if he wouldn't admit it, had something to prove. He'd kicked the boy across the field during the Sports Festival and somehow come out the other side a victor in the top three, with an offer to join the heroics course on a plate in front of him.

Shouta wasn't stupid – he'd taken the opportunity.

And so the years had passed and he'd become the kind of hero you never saw on the news, in movies or books. He skulked alongside the gutters and helped those who could no longer help themselves, spent his time on the heels of drug dealers, kept an eye out for the prostitutes and the pick pockets weaving in through crowded shopping districts. He encountered the dregs of society, saw filth and desperation, and you know what?

It was kind of shit. But it was rewarding – tedious, sometimes, draining and overwhelming, but it was rewarding. He didn't have the power to hold up crumbling skyscrapers, to stop tsunamis in their tracks or shoulder a speeding car. Shouta's quirk leveled the playing field, but other than that he was just human – fit, well-trained, but human. But heroes like that, like All Might or Endeavor never strayed far from the public eye, never bothered to reach the fringes of society where help was so desperately needed but never freely given.

So Shouta did.

And it wasn't enjoyable by any stretch of the imagination, but it was worth it – an acceptable trade off, especially on nights like these. For all that its where he taught, Shouta didn't usually patrol in Musutafu; he preferred to stick to Tokyo, to stay downtown where the lowlifes came out when the lights when down. It was a place never devoid of something needing to be done, and it made it easier to stay awake and ignore the call of his futon as the hours crept by and the sky lightened.

However today had been different – there'd been a staff meeting at UA earlier and, as he was wont to, Nezu had managed to extend it nearly two hours past the quoted time. By then there'd been little point in taking the train back to the city, so he had instead decided to conduct his patrol amongst the fringes of Musutafu, trailing carefully across the roofs of abandoned buildings and keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

It was at only a little after 8:00pm though that he spotted something; Shouta noted with a muted sense of curiosity the form of a child skulking along the sidewalk near the town's edge, head hung low and steps shuffled. His first thought had been that it was just a middle-schooler on his way home from club activities but—

No, something wasn't right. After fifteen years of training, Shouta damn well trusted his instincts. With a growing sense of unease, the hero had decided to follow from a distance, make sure the kid got to wherever he was going safely. However, as the minutes passed, the disquiet only grew – the direction the boy was heading in was devoid of any suburbs or shops but did have a single notable landmark – a bridge.

Shouta was far too much of a realist to not understand the picture being painted here, and it wasn't an uncommon one. He'd talked down many a jumper over the years, people desperate and down on their luck. Rarely though, were they so _young._ More often than not he didn't end up intervening – most of them ended up spooking, turning around, and changing their minds.

He wasn't going to put that to chance though. Shouta crept closer as the boy stopped in front of the guardrail, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. Even from this distance the man could make out the troubled expression on the child's face, the tears slowly dripping down his freckled cheeks. A twinge in his chest – the boy looked like about as old as his students.

(This wasn't an enjoyable job).

Whatever hopes he had held out quickly vanished as the boy swung his backpack off and appeared to get ready to climb up onto the ledge – in a moment, Shouta had his capture weapon darting from where it had rested against his shoulders to wrap around the child's midsection, yanking him back with an audible yelp from the boy.

He was as careful as he could be, but a small drop wouldn't hurt the kid – if anything, it would hopefully shock some sense back into him. Shouta watched with an impassive expression as the kid fell to the ground with a thump, letting out a stream of confused and panicked noises, when he decided enough was enough.

"Are you going to stay still, or am I going to have to call an ambulance?" The boy immediately squawked, wiggling furiously on the ground and trying to turn towards him.

"W-what? An ambulance-!?" The child's voice cut off as he laid eyes on him, and his next words were a legitimate surprise. "Eraserhead?!"

Shouta would be the first to admit that he was far from a recognizable face – he didn't have much in the way of a costume, stayed as far away from the mainstream as was physically possible and was rarely involved in televised cases outside of the occasional drug bust. He was pretty sure he'd never met them before – maybe a hero fan?

Sighing, he moved to squat down in front of the kid and tried to gentle his expression. "An ambulance—or," he tacked on a moment later. "-your parents."

It was almost funny, in a twisted way, watching realization play out across the child's face. First, a moment of confused consternation, followed by his eyes darting over to the ledge at his feet. Awareness, realization, and then as if wiping a whiteboard dry his face drained of color. He turned his head back to Shouta's direction so quickly that there was an audible pop.

"I wasn't—no, no, I wasn't going to—it's not what it looks like!" He gasped, eyes wide and pupils dilated in fear. Even from a few feet away it was impossible to miss the signs of panic brewing in him, the way he began to shake slightly in the binds, the way his breathing grew more audible and picked up its pace.

Shit, the last thing he needed was to induce an anxiety attack in the kid. Shouta raised his hands slowly, as if he was trying to tempt one of the feral kittens outside of his apartment rather than a nervous teenager but, well, if it worked. He kept his voice soft and low when he spoke again. "Hey, calm down, it's alright."

The middle-schooler shook his head back and forth again, his words seemingly having no impact. "No, no you can't call, you _can't_ , I wasn't going to do it, I swear-!" The words left his mouth in a flood, stuttered and choked out between raspy breathes. Tears welled up in the kid's eyes, quickly spilling down his cheeks, and damn if that didn't ache. Shouta might be a bastard, but he enjoyed teaching for a reason – he'd always had a soft spot for kids and this one looked wrecked.

"I won't call. I just want to talk, okay? I need you to keep breathing for me." Shouta promised, the lie slipping from his lips with ease – if this conversation ended badly, he had no conjunctions against keeping the kid strapped down while he called for help. Still, he'd rather it didn't come to that.

That, at least, seemed to mollify the child slightly – his eyes were still wet, cheeks still damp, but his breathing slowed slightly, even if it remained stuttered. "I- okay. Okay." He choked out, closing his eyes shut tightly for a moment, his shoulders moving with each inhale. "Sorry."

Shouta waved the apology off with ease. "Don't worry about it. I surprised you, after all." He admitted, even if in a well-adjusted person that would hardly warrant a panic attack. "Will you stay still if I let you up?"

The kid bobbed his head, sniffling softly from where his face was more or less pressed into the concrete. With a soft sigh, the hero stood up and reached over, yanking the kid up to where he could rest against the bars of the bridge, but not yet unwrapping him from the capture tape – he didn't trust the situation to go quite that well yet.

"…thank you." The words were whispered nearly into the boy's chest with the way he had his head hung so low. Shouta couldn't make out his face at all from this angle, as hidden as it was from behind a mop of curly green hair. "But—it, it really wasn't that. I'm sorry." The apology threw him for a loop more than the rest of the statement – he hardly expected the kid to admit it after all, but what was he sorry for? _Not_ killing himself? Christ.

"So you're saying you weren't going to jump off this bridge." It was spoken as a statement rather than a question, blunt and to the point. The boy flinched as if he'd been struck, but a moment later was vigorously shaking his head back and forth.

"N-no! No, I was just, I was on my way home and I was thinking—"

"You had to come all the way out here to think? Really?"

"Its just, I used to come here when I was, when I was younger, and I just—"

"So you weren't going to kill yourself?"

"I can't!" The words weren't quite shouted, but they were choked out with an intensity that seemed to startle even the boy who spoke them. Shouta pressed his lips together, grimly satisfied – can't, rather than wouldn't. An implied desire. The kid took a deep breath before looking up, meeting the hero's eyes for the first time. "I wouldn't. My mom—" his sudden courage seemed to fail him and he looked away. "My mom needs me. I wouldn't."

Within a single moment Shouta found himself utterly exhausted, looking down at the young boy at his feet. He was a hero – his job was, and always would be, to save people.

But he knew far too well that you couldn't always save those who didn't want to be.

"Where do you live?" He asked. The kid sniffled once more before looking up, expression guarded.

"Why? I mean—I mean, you're allowed to, um, ask, I was just—wondering. Why." The boy's question immediately stuttered off into a nearly indecipherable mutter, his cheeks flushing as he avoided looked at Shouta's face. Man, this kid was really a mess, wasn't he?

Another sigh. "I'm taking you home. Whatever you were or weren't going to do, it's getting late. It's not safe to be out at night around here."

The child jerked in his binds. "But-! You said you weren't-!"

"Relax, kid." Shouta said, unwinding the capture weapon from around him. "I'm not going to tattle." And, he admitted to himself, 'I saw your kid looking sad on a bridge,' wasn't exactly enough evidence for most parents to get their child some much-needed therapy. He had no proof after all, aside from a gut feeling and the kid's own sideways admittance.

The look of relief that came over the boy was almost painful. "Thank you, Eraserhead!" He seemed much less frantic now with Shouta's own declaration that he wasn't going to be told on. "And, I really am sorry! For hassling you. I'll, um, I'll be more careful!" As soon as he was standing, untethered, the boy leaned down into a sharp bow, his messy curls bouncing against his forehead.

Shouta just shrugged, wrapping the grey fabric into place around his neck once more.

He'd have to keep an eye out for the kid in the future.

* * *

It was to the surprise of no one more than Izuku that the first thing he did upon getting home was fall into a heap on his bed and pass out for nine straight hours.

Though maybe it shouldn't be – the fifteen minute walk home had somehow become both the most uncomfortable and stressful quarter hour of his life and by the end of it, he'd been about a half block away from just curling up in a ball on the sidewalk and screaming.

More than anything it had been _awkward—_ after letting him up and unwrapping him from his weapon, the hero had barely said a word; he'd asked Izuku to lead the way and then stayed, for the entirety of the trip, three paces back – far enough that the middle schooler couldn't spot him out the corner of his eye but close enough that he could hear the almost silent thump of the man's boots against the pavement. Izuku had felt like he was being marched to the gallows.

 _what if he told oh god—_

 _he couldn't run away he couldn't escape he was trapped-_

 _mom couldn't find out, she couldn't-_

Within a few minutes the silence had more or less buried its way into his nervous system and he had to bite down the stupid urge to just – talk. To fill the silence, to say anything to stop himself from thinking, to stop himself from feeling the eyes digging into his back.

Before they were half-way there, Izuku was already semi-desperately yearning for the easy camaraderie him and All Might had shared just that morning.

Somehow – miraculously – the two of them reached the base of his apartment building without anyone else bursting into tears or having a nervous breakdown, however close a call it might have been. Izuku had turned around, tugging nervously on the frayed ends of his hoodie's sleeve as he dared a glance up at Eraserhead's face. The man looked much as he had when they'd left – tired and bored, eyes half-lidded and posture slumped.

"Um, this is my building, sir." Izuku had said, his voice wobbling dangerously. The hero just stared down at him for moment, not reacting, and a rush of adrenaline bloomed in the boy not dissimilar to what he'd felt when he'd first faced the slime villain.

If Eraserhead had lied, if he tried to go upstairs and talk to his mom and tell her—tell her what he'd almost _done—_

He could- he could run, and even if the hero would catch him (of course he would catch him he was a pro-fucking hero), he could lie about which room or give him a fake name or, or something else, anything to keep him from letting his mom know what a screw up, despicable mistake of a son she had raised and oh god he was going to be sick—

A deep sigh cut off his train of thought. Eraserhead reached up to rub absently at the scruff along his chin as he met Izuku's eyes with an unsettling intensity. "Stay out of trouble kid." He spoke—ordered? "And…" The man hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You aren't alone. There's help out there for you, when you need it."

In that moment Izuku had wished fervently, desperately, that he could believe that.

But he could feel the dozens of tiny scars burnt into his skin sting like they were still blistering, could hear his classmate's delighted laughter as Kacchan pressed his face into the classroom floor until he cried, could see the amused, barely disguised smirk of the school counselor as he spoke of his dreams. He could remember the way disapproval had wrinkled his father's brow, the way the door sounded as it slammed behind him one last time, and, well—

It had been years upon years since anyone besides his Mom and All Might had ever willingly helped him when he needed it, and that was more or less their jobs.

But even so, Izuku had nodded his head, lips upturned in a small, grateful smile that didn't match the look in his eyes and thanked the hero for his time. He'd waved goodbye and turned around, feeling dark eyes glaring a hole into the back of his head as he walked up the stairs. He unlocked his front door, stepped into his darkened apartment and—waited.

He wasn't really sure for what, though. The panic? The realization? But there was nothing. Just a curious emptiness, like the last hour had been a fever induced dream, or the whole day even. Had he really met with All Might just this morning? Had he spoken with the hero?

Had he agreed to become his successor?

Izuku's musings felt oddly muffled as he toed off his shoes on autopilot. He crept down the hallway, peeked into his mother's room – Kaa-san was breathing, and then retreated to his own. Without even taking off his socks he collapsed onto the comforter and within moments there was blessedly nothing.

So yeah, in hindsight that had made a fair amount of sense – honestly, he was probably lucky he hadn't just straight up fainted on the walk home with how many directions his emotions had been yanked today.

He was too young to deal with this level of stress.

When the morning light eventually filtered through his curtains, illuminating his exhausted features, he awoke slowly. His rough groans echoed in his otherwise silent room, and it took him way longer than it usually would for him to realize where he was, even with the repertoire of All Mights staring down at him. When had he fallen asleep? His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, and the jeans he'd worn out yesterday rubbed uncomfortably against the skin of his legs.

Kami, what time was it?

Izuku found himself bolting upright in bed, realization hitting him with all the grace of a lightning strike. "The beach!" His voice came out strangled as he halfway threw himself off his bed to where he'd tossed his backpack the night prior, desperately pulling out the myriad of things he'd packed 'just in case.'

"Please don't be late, please don't be late, please don't be late—" The mantra fell from his lips without him thinking about it, cutting off only when he finally managed to unearth his chipped All Might phone case from one of the bag's many pockets.

Feeling as through he was halfway to a heart attack, Izuku hesitantly clicked his screen on; 6:53am.

A woosh of air forcibly ejected itself from his lungs as he collapsed onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling and urging his heart-rate to settle back down. Not his most relaxing wake-up call to say the least. Kami he was such an idiot, why hadn't he set an alarm? He was already late yesterday, All Might was going to think he was flaky and- and unmotivated if he was late again!

 _OH GOD HE ONLY HAD AN HOUR TO GET READY—_

* * *

Deju vu was quickly becoming a familiar phenomenon Izuku realized as his sneakers thumped rhythmically against the street. His lungs were crying out desperately for the air they were no longer receiving, and the twinge in his side had long ago evolved into a stabbing sensation. He hated running. He hated being _late._ He hated himself and the fact that he was too stupid to just pick! An! Outfit!

(But he really didn't have much in the way of work out clothes and All Might hadn't even really said specifically that that is what they were doing, what if they were going somewhere nice? Should he bring a change of clothes? Should he wear a hat? No, that's stupid why would he wear a hat.)

Izuku skidded to a stop on the sidewalk in front of the area of the beach he'd been brought to the day prior, not late only by the skin of his teeth – a quick glance down at his phone assured him that it was in fact only 7:58.

"You really like to cut it close, don't you my boy?" An amused voice called out from in front of him. On instinct, Izuku tried to straighten up, greet the man – because who could it be but All Might? – but his body Very Firmly Disagreed with that sentiment. All he could do was raise a hand in greeting as he nearly folded himself in half, panting into his knees and sweat sliding down his forehead.

"I'm… so… sorry…" He choked out in between stuttered breaths. He could see All Might, or rather Yagi's shadow stretched out along the concrete as the man walked towards him from the beach, and he glanced up as best as he could.

Yagi looked much as he had yesterday, drowning in the fabric of oversized clothes and hunched over. His expression was bright though and his hair was tied back into a short ponytail. Izuku's mind stuttered for a moment at that realization, because All Might! Ponytail! Before it tried to reboot itself.

"This wasn't what I meant to start you on today, but I'm flexible." Yagi mused. "Do you know how to cool down from a run?"

Izuku didn't even realize that you were supposed to cool down. The blank expression on his face apparently conveyed that fact, as Yagi let out a rough chuckle and slapped him on the back hard enough that he pinwheeled for a moment so that he didn't fall over.

"You never want to go from a sprint to staying still or sitting – you're better off walking around until you're body begins to cool down. It's also best to do some stretching as well to prevent soreness and cramps." The man's tone was a bit awkward at first, seemingly unfamiliar with teaching, but quickly turned enthusiastic. And Izuku? Izuku was starstruck.

He unconsciously straightened, eyes glued to the hero's face as he lectured, and his hands itched to write the man's words down. Him! Izuku! Was being taught by All Might! Him!

"So come on, now! No time to waste." Yagi announced, clapping his hands together. The middle schooler stared at him for a moment, befuddled – come on and what? But Yagi was already turning on his heel and walking over to—was that a Segway? The man stepped on it and turned around, expression expectant.

A lightbulb moment. "Oh-! Coming!" Even as his body fought him tooth and nail, begging him to lie down for a breather on the sand, he jogged over to where Yagi had already begun zooming down the street and tried his best to keep up.

The next hours were the sweetest kind of torture Izuku had ever experienced – Yagi apparently needed to know his exact level of fitness which, needless to say, was lacking. He had him doing suicides in the sand, forcing his arms into as many pushups as he could manage (a measly 3), trying and failing to do a single pull-up, trying and mostly failing to drag a variety of heavy objects down the beach, and swimming laps as best he could in the rough ocean current.

By the time noon rolled around, Izuku was pretty sure he was dead. Finally allowed a breather, has had more or less become one with the sand, far past the point of caring about getting the grit in his hair. He'd abandoned his shirt hours ago and his shorts were still drenched from his watery adventure (he _knew_ he should've brought swimming trunks). His heart was beating so heavily in his chest that he was certain the seagulls along the coast could hear it with ease. His muscles were noodles. His brain was mush.

Izuku didn't think he'd ever been happier.

It was the most bizarre feeling – as much as his body ached and rebelled against every maneuver he tried to force it through, just knowing that All Might was there, was willingly teaching him, was offering him shouted encouragement from where he was strolling along on his Segway or from where he sat perched on random items of trash was enough to make him feel like he was capable of anything.

No one, and he meant _no one_ had ever done anything like this before – encouraged him, let alone took time out of their day to teach him. He loved his mom, loved her more than life itself but—

* * *

" _I'm so sorry Izuku, I'm sorry!"_

* * *

Even she had never really believed in him. She loved him, he knew that, but she'd always been… waiting. For him to give up, to move on to something more reasonable. But Yagi's eyes were warm and even when his admonishments were sharp and his words were teasing, his expression was fond.

Izuku could almost convince himself that Yagi, that _All Might_ genuinely… believed in him. That he could do it. And, maybe, a small part of him wanted to believe that he could do it too.

 _he was a liar and a fake and—_

 _one day All Might would realize what a mess he was—_

"Young Midoriya! What time does your school let out?" The hero's voice called from a few feet away. Yagi had spent most of the day scribbling in a notebook that Izuku had given him (he'd brought a few extras, just in case). He could only assume the man was documenting the results of the exercises he'd been put through.

"3:00pm!" Izuku called back, voice slightly raspy from exhaustion.

"Are you not a part of any clubs?" Yagi asked, tone curious. The middle-schooler stilled from his position on the ground, anxiety flickering through him at the question.

"Oh, uh, no! Not… this year." That wasn't technically a lie – it was just that he hadn't been in one any other year, either. Aldera, not being in the best area, didn't require students to join clubs but most people still did; even Kacchan spent a year in the Judo club before he was asked to leave for being 'too passionate,' from what he'd heard. Still, even if he'd been interested in joining one (Aldera, like most middle-schools, did have a pro-hero fan-club after all), its not like anyone wanted a quirkless kid in theirs.

 _Kacchan always got mad when people were nice to him—_

 _he'd just wanted to be friends-_

All Might made a considering noise. "I don't think I was in one at your age either – too busy studying for entrance exams." He admitted, scratching his noise sheepishly. "I, ah, wasn't the best student back then."

Izuku let out an unsteady laugh, trying to force himself to relax – it had been an innocent question, after all. "I can't imagine that!" And he really couldn't – All Might had always seemed so otherworldly, and even still did to this extent with his emaciated form. The idea of Yagi as a middle-schooler? It was bizarre. It was almost easier to believe that he'd always been an adult.

"No, no, really! I was a bit of a troublemaker before I started training."

It was a hassle to force his weary limbs to co-operate, but curiosity was always Izuku's vice, and the thought of learning more about All Might (All Might!)'s childhood was too much to pass up. "Really? You said you were younger than me when you received your quirk…?" The middle schooler trailed off, having to bite back the apology that wanted to spring up; Yagi had seemed okay with his questions so far, but that didn't mean that there wasn't a line he could cross. He didn't want to offend!

All Might let out a noise of assent, tapping his pen against the notebook on his lap. "Yes!" He spoke in English. "I was… 12, I believe!"

It was mind-boggling to imagine a twelve year old with the power of All Might.

"Alright, this should be about ready then." The man announced after a brief pause, a wide grin spreading across his gaunt features. Izuku perked up, eyes wide with intrigue. "I still need to type it up and print it off for you, but this—" He held the notebook out with a flourish not dissimilar to a used-car salesman on one of those late-night TV commercials. "Is going to be your life for the next few months!"

The middle schooler immediately struggled to his feet, stumbling over himself as his legs refused to cooperate for a moment. All Might snickered, but still reached out a hand to steady him before he could tumble over. Izuku's face flushed a light pink and he opened his mouth to thank the man but Yagi cut him off.

"From when you wake up to when you go to bed, you will be following this schedule to a tee! Including what you will be eating for every meal, how much sleep you'll be getting, and what body parts we will be focusing on each day." He explained, holding the notebook out which Izuku, for lack of a batter word, _snatched_ , eyes trailing over it with a kind of childlike glee – All Might had made this! For him! This was his specialized training plan from All Might!

But as he read it, the glee began to dim; the hero wasn't kidding when he said everything was planned out. Eight hours of sleep a night… and oh wow that was- that was a lot of meat he was supposed to be eating. Unease began to unfurl within the boy as he read further – he didn't doubt that this was the most accurate and well made training plan he could get (considering who it was made by after all), but, well, Izuku was lucky if he ate three meals a day. Food was expensive, and while Kaa-san would never ask him to take lighter portions, he was well aware of the strain feeding a teenage boy had put on their budget. If he skipped meals when she wasn't awake to notice, well… it wouldn't hurt in the long run right?

Izuku was lucky if they could afford fish. But chicken? Beef? On a daily basis? He darted a glance over to where Yagi was still grinning down at him, seemingly fidgeting in place as he waited for a response.

"So, young Midoriya? Are you ready to start your journey to becoming a hero?" The man crowed, placing his hands on his hips in a move that mimicked the style of his heroic form.

Forcibly pushing down his reservations, Izuku returned the man's vigor as best as he could, a sunny smile curling on his lips.

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

 **Whats this? An update within a month? Witchcraft.**

 **But yes, hello everybody! Im in the midst of summer break and after rewriting this chapter going on what, 3 times now? I'm finally content with it! But its also 4:00am for me right now so if theyre are any glaring mistakes... my bad. I'm a little sick and sleep deprived, so please be gentle with me.**

 **I hope everyone likes the POV change in the beginning of the chapter - I kind of wanted to highlight just how disjointed and chaotic Izuku's way of thinking it compared to a lot of the other characters. I definitely want to do scenes like that again throughout the fic, so keep any eye out! Also, this is definitely a fic where Aizawa started off as a gen-ed student. Gotta love that headcanon man.**

 **Song of the Chapter: "Feel the Lightning" - Dan Deacon**


	7. Chapter 7

_"How starved they seemed for ordinary kindness."_

-Rohinton Mistry

* * *

As his face was ground into the wall, Izuku thought he probably should've expected this.

He really, really should've, on the basis of 'has happened before, many times,' alone. He knew Kacchan, would quietly, in his most melancholic moments even say that he knew him better than almost anyone, but that fact only made him far more stupid.

He'd been blindsided. In a mere three days his world had tipped so far on its axis that Izuku was half ready to start nailing the things in his room down lest they begin fall. It didn't feel _real_ , almost like there was this shiny, golden haze over everything that made it appear warm and bright and alien in a way that clashed so forcibly with the muted tones of before.

Three days ago he'd been nothing, firm in the knowledge that he was going to die long before he'd ever managed to change that fact.

Three days ago he'd almost drowned at the hands of a villain.

Three days ago he'd been told, miraculously, that he could become a hero.

And perhaps the most important in this specific moment—

Three days ago he'd saved Kacchan. 

* * *

For being 14-years-old, Izuku had already managed to accumulate a list of regrets. He regretted bringing his vintage All Might poster to show-and-tell, watching it crumble to dust from tiny explosions. He regretted the way he purposefully ignored how bad Kaa-san was getting, hoping in vain that her illness would simply go away. He regretted the one and only time he went to Sensei for help, only to be told to, "Stop exaggerating, Midoriya." And on his worst days, when each step taken seemed impossible, weighted and heavy, he regretted breathing.

But he never regretted offering his hand to Katsuki when they were children.

Maybe, logically, he shouldn't have done it. He knew even back then the vast ocean of pride that made his best friend into the boy he was, because Kacchan was great! He was great and powerful and held the very future of the world in his palms and he knew it!

Everyone knew it.

Just like everyone knew that Izuku, poor little quirkless, naïve Midoriya Izuku was doing little more than chasing stars every time he followed him around.

When Kacchan had slipped—when he'd _fallen_ , Izuku had sworn his heart stopped. They'd been so small, the fall so far, and the river was going so fast-! Before he could even call out, his legs were springing forward, scrambling down the side of the hill until he was wading through water, eyes wet with panic.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? I was worried you'd hit your head!" He'd asked, a single hand held out, and Kacchan? He'd **erupted.**

Izuku couldn't even really say what had happened, but only knew that within a few moments he'd been shoved into the water, face stinging from explosions set off too close to skin, ears ringing with the other boy's violent denials. His hands ached from where they'd scraped against the rocks, tiny beads of blood washed away in the current.

Him and the other boys had left him there, snotting over himself in the middle of the stream, and the sky had long since turned black by the time he'd found himself back home. Kaa-san had been frantic, her voice taut with nerves, halfway to breaking his ribs with how tight her hug had been.

And even as he'd sobbed into her chest that he was sorry, that he got lost, that he wouldn't do it again, he was crying for more for the friendly hand that had been so violently pushed aside. He loved Kacchan, his very best friend, his favorite person, and heroes were supposed to help! To always be there when people fell down! That's what All Might had always said.

He'd just wanted to help. 

* * *

Friday had been a disaster, as Izuku was well aware. And while it had ended better than expected, it was still wrought with moments that kept him up at night, breathing unsteadily as he stared up at his ceiling and tried desperately to think of something, anything else.

 _the feeling of his lungs struggling to expand, drowning on dry land—_

 _might as well do the world a favor and take a swan dive off the roof-!_

 _the look of exhausted disappointment on the face of his hero—_

But the rest of the weekend? It hardly felt real. He'd gotten ice cream with All Might! He'd heard the man laugh, had him ruffle his hair and look down at him and _smile_ like he was worth smiling at! He'd gotten to speak to the man without being half-dead and sobbing!

And okay, maybe the thing with Eraserhead was something he was very willfully trying to forget as even thinking about it made him want to vomit—

And then yesterday he had Trained! With! All Might! And when he'd come home that night, Kaa-san had been having a good day and they'd watched a documentary on the fall of the vigilante movement in Japan! She'd been delighted when he told her he wanted to start exercising more, and even if Kaa-san had fallen asleep partway through his explanation, hearing her soft snores on the couch were relaxing in a way that little else had been.

He'd fallen asleep last night—not happy, but content. Excited, even, as Yagi-san was going to give him the finalized version of his schedule that afternoon. It was almost like things were… looking up.

But then he'd gone to school.

Izuku couldn't remember a single moment in his life where he had wanted to skip more than he had today, and if it was anything but his third year he probably would have. But now he needed his grades to be up to par more than ever and his transcript had to be absolutely spotless, because he was honestly, legitimately trying to get into UA and, well. Aside from praying to get in, he was also semi-desperate to receive at least a small scholarship. The premiere heroics school in all of Asia was expensive, and they'd only saved so much.

From the moment he'd stepped school grounds he'd heard the whispers following him, the muffled sounds of gossip chasing after him like a bad dream even as he struggled to keep his head down, studiously avoiding eye contact.

The thing was – Izuku was invisible. He always had been. As much as Kacchan went out of his way to knock into him and ruin his things, he was more or less the only one. Maybe his 'friends' would join in every once in a while, but even then they tended to ignore him unless the explosive boy started something.

To his classmates, and even to his teachers? Izuku was well aware of the fact that he was unremarkable – another weird kid that sat in the back of the class, better off ignored. A plain-looking boy, powerless and with little future.

* * *

 _"A hero without a quirk you say?"_

* * *

But suddenly he wasn't. It seemed as if the entirety of the student body had heard about his encounter with the slime villain, and with every bit of info he heard, the more alarmed he became.

" _Didn't you hear? The villain got Bakugou—"_

 _"—I heard there was another kid—"_

 _"All Might was there! My brother said—"_

 _"It's crazy how powerful that guy's quirk is-!"_

 _"—had to get saved by that quirkless kid—"_

The fact that Izuku had managed to get home after the villain encounter without running into Kacchan was little more than a miracle. If they hadn't kept him behind for medical treatment… The two of them lived close enough that it wasn't uncommon to run into one another in the street or on the train. He knew perfectly well that come hell or high water, Katsuki was going to be at school today – he'd drag himself there before he let the people around him think he was weak, think he'd been frightened into submission.

Izuku had walked into the classroom and immediately felt those familiar eyes glaring daggers at him. He'd ignored them as best as he could, hunkered down at his desk and trying in vain to block out the sounds of his class-mates chatter, twitching every time someone mentioned his name and _waiting._

But Kacchan didn't say a word. Hadn't come up to his desk, palms smoking, and threatened him within an inch of his life. He hadn't thrown something at him or tripped him as he walked by or—or anything! He'd more or less ignored him!

Izuku was safe. It was way more than he'd ever dared to hope for and he wasn't planning on pushing his luck. He'd gone the entirety of the school day saying barely a world, trying his best to fade into the background and glancing nervously at the back of his friend's blonde head every chance he got. He hid out in the bathroom during lunch, balancing his bento on his knees, and the moment class was dismissed for the day he was darting out of his chair.

And he'd gotten so _close—_ Izuku had switched his shoes out and gotten his bag and was heading out the back before it happened.

Within the blink of an eye he'd been shoved face first into the side of the school building, feeling the stone scrape against his chin as he let out a started yelp. He could feel hands fisted into the back of his uniform, feel the unnatural warmth emanating from them and felt his heart sink.

He'd been so close, he'd been so _close_ —

"So, shitty Deku, where do you think you're going?" A rough voice snarled in his ear, close enough that Izuku could feel the heat of his breath against his skin. He swallowed, dread curling restlessly around in his stomach.

Kacchan wasn't yelling.

"N-nowhere Kacchan." Izuku whispered, voice muffled by the way the wall dug into his cheek. As soon as he spoke, the hands against him let out a small, popping explosion, leaving him twitching against the wall. Oh god please don't put holes in his uniform, please don't put holes in his uniform—

"You think you're hot shit, huh? Strutting around like you saved all of fucking Tokyo." Katsuki spat, and with a single motion pulled him back only to slam him forward once more, his forehead meeting the brick with a muted thump harshly enough that a whine escaped from Izuku's clenched teeth.

"You make me so fucking sick. Do you even know how pathetic you are?" A brief pause. Kacchan shook him roughly, pushing him even harder still. "I asked you a fucking question!"

"Y-yes."

"Yes _what_ , dumbass!"

"I-I know how p-pathetic I am."

Kacchan let out a sharp bark of laughter, dark and weighted with irritation as he spun Izuku around so he was facing him.

Izuku couldn't feel his hands. His breathes were distorted, soft and quick and becoming harder and harder to manage the closer Katsuki's face got. He could barely feel the small drip of blood leaking down from his temple where the skin caught against the rough surface of the brick, could barely see anything but the way Kacchan's eyes bored into him, unblinking.

"You're damn right. Now you listen here, and you listen closely you fucking rat. I wasn't _scared_ , I didn't need you, and nobody ever fucking needs you!" Each of his words was emphasized by the sound of an explosion popping from where the taller boy gripped his collar, growing louder and more intense the harsher the boy's voice became. "You think you did something great? You were useless! You didn't do shit! You should've just laid down and let the slime-fucker kill you, done us all a damn favor."

Izuku shuddered at that, stricken because he was- _opening his mouth to scream only there was something in it, sinking down his throat and into his chest and filling him and he was going to_ _ **die**_ _—_ he couldn't breathe, panic causing tears to well in his eyes and spill over after a particularly rough shake.

Kacchan was right, Kacchan was always right he should've just laid there and died and why did All Might have to save him why did he even bother all he did was make everything he touched a fucking mess and now Kacchan was mad and he didn't want him to be upset he just wanted to help-

The other boy let out a noise of disgust, stepping back and letting Izuku fall to the ground with a thud, wiping his hands off against his uniform as if afraid that quirklessness was contagious. Kacchan looked down his at him, watching as he slowly curled up into a ball on the concrete, hands visibly shaking against his knees, cheeks wet and nose dripping, and scoffed.

"Stay the fuck away from me Deku." He ordered, and with a single rough kick to his side that caused Izuku to let out a strangled wheeze as it caught him on the ribs, he turned on his heel and slouched off, hands tucked into his pockets.

And for a moment he just—sat there. Trying to breathe through the sharp ache in his chest, through the way his lungs seems to struggle to grasp air. Tried to ignore the sound of footsteps in front of him as his classmates passed by with little more than a giggle aimed in his direction.

His hands ached to—to tug, or scratch or pull, for that little bit of pain to ground him in the moment but it felt like there were thousands of eyes on him and he couldn't breathe—

Somehow, he makes it to the bathroom. Somehow, he washes the dirt off his cheeks, dabs at the sluggishly bleeding scrapes on his forehead with a paper towel. Somehow, he changes into his gym clothes, and shoves his singed undershirt into the bottom of his backpack.

Somehow, he looks into the mirror and ignores the bruise forming on his chin and the violent red outlining his eyes and smiles. 

* * *

"Midoriya, my boy, we really need to work on your punctuality! And what did you do to your face?"

"S-Sorry All- er, Yagi-san! I fell on my way here and I, ah, stopped to clean myself up!"

"It's alright! We'll just have to work on your balance at some point, haha!"

* * *

The following weeks pass by in a blur, his life structured in a way its never been before.

For the first time since he was a small child he has a bedtime. He wakes up at 5:30am every morning, each and every meal is timed and detailed down to the weight of the portions he should be eating. His breaks are scheduled, his time for homework is scheduled, his showers at night are scheduled, and Izuku?

He _loves_ it. It's almost bizarre how much he finds himself enjoying it, especially considering the fact that with every moment of his day planned out he has next to no time to work on his own hobbies, half written essays and blog posts sitting untouched on his desktop. He hasn't gone so long without tracking down a hero fight in literal years, and though his quirk notebooks are still filling up from observing All Might and his classmates, its no longer anywhere near the rate it had been before.

But whatever satisfaction he gains from that pales in comparison to the way he lights up every time All Might smiles at him. Every "Good job, my boy!" and "Nice improvement!" called out as he crawls after the hero's Segway makes him feel as though he is floating, feet hovering above the ground and moments away from rocketing up into the sky and exploding with the sheer amount of emotion within him. He lives for the way the man's eyes crinkle when he manages to catch Izuku muttering under his breath, amused rather than irritated, fond rather than disturbed. He looks forward to every time the man reaches down to tousle his sweaty hair or give him a firm slap on the back, the small moments of physical content that he yearns for, because no one, _no one_ , aside from his mom ever _touches him_ —

(Kacchan hasn't looked at him in weeks).

But however much he enjoys this new life he's somehow been gifted, it's not easy. It doesn't get easier.

The first week, Izuku had exhausted nearly every avenue he could find for work out tips and tricks, ways to build up bulk and increase stamina. He listened to so many pro-hero fitness podcasts that he could recite them in his sleep. He read published essays on things like the effects of acute augmented feedback on limb asymmetries and eccentric knee flexor strength, learned more about the particulars of the muscular system then he'd ever actually wanted to know. But, as it had always been, no matter how much he knew about something intellectually, cognitively, it didn't help him with it practically.

And physically, that week had been hellish – he'd come home every night drenched in sweat, limbs burning with the pain of overuse and limbs shaky. He'd eat as much as he could, following the diet plan as well as he was able to, and collapse into bed exhausted. Running wasn't as bad once he began learning the correct forms, push-ups easier when there was no one there to laugh when he failed, and he was getting better, slowly but surely under All Might's guidance.

But the exhaustion only grew.

By week two he'd run into the problem he'd been fearing, and that problem was both the contents of his fridge and wallet. Kaa-san and him had been strictly budgeting for years, making sure to put enough aside from her disability money every month to pay for rent, utilities, school fees, medicine and groceries. While Kaa-san was the one who took care of the bills, she often let Izuku decide the grocery list and how much money they'd require since she mostly stuck to liquids and simple foods; he knew that if it came down to it, his mom would much rather he be well fed then she have her medication. To him, though? That was never even an option.

So maybe he'd skimp on some things, load up on rice more than beef and vegetables, go for lower quality food, things that would last long without expiring. Maybe he'd have to ration a bit towards the end of the month, skip bringing a lunch to school on certain days, but it wasn't a problem – he was fine.

Only, now he had a meal plan to follow that required large amounts of protein at every meal. Taking up competitive couponing only did so much when he was supposed to be eating three times the normal amount, and if he was forced to forgo the chicken cutlets? He would manage. Beans might be less protein-intensive, but they were cheaper, so that would work – he'd make it work, because he had to.

And it did work for a while– he was eating way more than he usually did and still managing to do all his exercises. He met up with All Might nearly every day for at least for an hour or so and was flourishing underneath the man's enthusiastic eye. For a single moment, everything seemed perfect—almost too much so.

And then it happened.

On a Saturday little over a month into his training regime, Izuku was where he always was on the weekends; trailing back and forth on Dagobah Beach, completing various tasks as Yagi called out pointers and played Candy Crush from the rusted car he'd chosen to perch on that day.

As the fall season slowly transformed into winter, his mentor had cut back on the amount of swimming they'd been doing much to the gratefulness of the middle-schooler who'd begun fearing the loss of his limbs to the chilling Musutafu ocean. Instead they'd begun a focus on endurance training, and today that mean suffering through laps back and forth across the beach, trudging through the ever-sifting grains of sand even as they worked to suck him down.

Within three hours he was near dead on his feet, sweat dripping down from his forehead onto his eyelashes, blurring the view in front of him.

"Twelve more laps, young man!" Yagi sounded from behind him, an announcement he'd long since stopped responding to. He instead used his remaining energy to force his feet forward.

Each step was accompanied by a breath he struggled to release, stuttered and uneven as they were. It wasn't proper breathing etiquette, not the 'inhale for three steps, exhale for two' that Yagi had drilled into his head early on, but he _couldn't_ , couldn't force the constancy that that required when his legs shook and his head felt cloudy.

His face felt like it was on fire, in direct contrast to the way his fingertips felt near frozen, almost numb with how chilled they were.

Izuku spun as he reached the old fridge that marked the lap boundary, squinting blearily ahead to see Yagi scowling down at his phone nearly a football-field's length ahead. Eleven laps now. He'd come this far, he could do this, he _knew_ he could do this—

He managed a few more steps, his pulse blaring in his ears. He couldn't feel his hands. He could do this, he had to do this—

Another step and he felt himself stumble slightly, sluggish legs unwilling to cooperate with the directions they'd been given. What was that sound, in the distance? Was that his name? He had to keep moving. Another step. He couldn't feel his body, as though he was no longer tethered to it. His heart beat was so loud in his ears, it deafened him to the sound of the seagulls, the crashing of the waves. Just a few more—just a few more steps, and then he could rest.

His head felt so, so heavy. Maybe if he just… maybe if he just stopped for a moment… No, but—but All Might, he had to, he had to take another step.

When had it gotten so dark? Everything was—everything was tilting. Izuku raised his foot to take another step and then—

Nothing. 

* * *

Waking up came in phases.

The first thing Izuku realized, cognitively, was that he was _hot._ His head felt as though it was stuffed with laundry straight out the dryer – muffled and muddled, a thick, heady feeling that permeated from his temples and burrowed into his cheeks. He could feel beads of sweat pressing his hair to his forehead.

The second was that he _ached_. It wasn't like being sore – it wasn't overworked muscles and exhausted joints, but rather the kind of shaky, fragile feeling of something pushed too far past its limit.

Kami, he felt like he'd be run over—what happened?

A groan escaped from between his clenched teeth as Izuku tried to take stock of his surroundings, his hands shaking as he began to push himself into an upright position. He was startled, though, to feel fabric underneath him – they'd been at the beach… right?

Wait, where was-!

"So you're awake." The very man he'd been thinking of spoke, his voice low, tinged with an unfamiliar tone. Izuku glanced his way with bleary eyes, rubbing away the crust of unconsciousness and trying his best to focus.

All Might didn't look pleased.

It felt as though his stomach had disappeared, leaving little more than a gaping hole in his midsection. He'd never—he'd seen the hero look frustrated and tired and in pain and, and overwhelmed and exasperated, but this one was… cold. Yagi's expression looked as though it'd been carved from stone, his gaunt features severe under the harsh afternoon sun.

Izuku quickly struggled into a more formal position, realizing with a kind of muted horror that he was wrapped in the hero's own jacket from earlier, and subsequently dirtying it with his own sweat. He'd have to watch it or oh Kami if he stained he'd have to replace it, but what if it was really expensive? Maybe he could try an auction off another one of his older figurines-

"Midoriya." Yagi cleared his throat pointedly, crossing his arms from where he sat on the back end of an old beat up car a few feet away. "We need to talk."

There was literally not a single person in this world who wanted to hear those four words put together.

Izuku's hesitation immediately upgraded to full blown panic and within moments he was wringing his hands in front of him, shoulders hunched and throat stinging with tears he desperately tried to swallow down.

Oh god, what had he done? That was stupid, he knew what he'd done. All Might had taken time out of his day to, to train him and was putting so much work and effort into him and he was so useless that he had _passed out_ because he couldn't even get up the nerve to properly do the tasks the hero set and he was a failure and a disappointment and he was—

"I-I'm so, so sorry! I didn't mean to pass out, I swear I can keep going and I'll do better, I won't do it again, I'm really, really sorry—"

The frame of the car groaned as Yagi stood up with his hands balled into fists at his sides, but the middle-schooler notice, unable to stop the deluge of words falling from his mouth.

"I'll do better, I really will and I can spend extra time today to make up for the time lost or I can just train more on my own, I'm—"

"Izuku!" The hero barked, tone hard; the use of his given name startled him into silence, choking on the apology that wanted to escape. His eyes were wide as he stared up at man, noticing the way he seemed to be shaking. Was he okay?

"Y-Yes?" He stammered, hunching his shoulders slightly.

"You haven't been following the schedule." It wasn't a question, but Yagi paused after stating it, expression expectant.

Izuku waved his hands frantically in front of him, jerking his head in denial even as the harsh movement made everything go a little fuzzy for a second. "I-I have been! I've been doing all the exercises at home and keeping up with my runs and weight-lifting—"

"I could feel every one of your ribs!" Yagi shouted—he _shouted_ , and that alone was enough to leave the young boy speechless; it took far longer than it should have for the words to even register, and with it came confusion. "When I picked you up, I could feel every single one!"

"I know I've lost a little weight—" He responded, voice hesitant. Wasn't that to be expected with just how much he'd been working out? How many calories he'd been burning? Yeah, his clothes were getting a bit loose, but it wasn't that drastic. And wait, All Might had picked him up!?

"A little—a little!? You're half starved!" The hero exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air.

"I've been eating, I swear!" Izuku protested, flinching back slightly as the man spun on his heel, turning to the car and digging through a bag—Izuku's bag, specifically. He turned back around a moment later with a piece of paper grasped between his bony fingers, slightly crinkled under the force of his grip.

"Young man, you are supposed to be eating nearly 7,000 calories a day! At minimum! I didn't write this up for you as a gentle suggestion!" Yagi insisted, thrusting the schedule out for Izuku to see, not that he needed to – he'd long since memorized it.

Dread began to slither up his spine, nearly suffocating the boy as it grew. He'd- he'd known he was skimping on the diet plan, but he'd been trying. He'd been eating three times a day, eaten at least a little bit when he was supposed to load up on snacks. He was eating way more than he usually did, sticking to the plan as much as he'd been able to. He'd been trying so _hard_. And okay, he'd been a bit sluggish recently and he'd begun to wonder if his face might be looking a little thinner, but he'd never thought… he never expected that All Might would look close enough to notice.

Because it didn't matter. Izuku wasn't going to let something as small as that stop him, not when he'd watched his mom push through day after day in a body that seemed to want to do nothing more than collapse. What was a little hunger next to the form of All Might, who was still the number one hero without a lung and a stomach? Izuku's pain was nothing! His exhaustion was nothing, compared to them! It didn't matter! He just had to do better, he had to _be_ better.

There was a brief pause as the two of them stared at each other. His mentor sighed, slumping into himself as he let the tension leave his body.

"I thought you were serious about this." Yagi spoke quietly, his voice drenched with disappointment.

Izuku's heart _broke_. Within a moment he was on his knees, trying to push himself onto unsteady legs, desperation tinging his expression as he began to cry.

"I am! I want to be a hero!" He responded – begged, even, voice quivering. "More than anything!"

"Then why?" The hero asked, exhaustion marring his tone – when the man reached up to rub at his forehead, eyes closed and brow marred with frustration, he looked… old. Tired. It physically hurt to see. "Too many foods you don't enjoy? Some sort of diet?"

The accusations stung, and the very idea that All Might thought that he was just—just some kid, playing at heroism caused his face to warm with humiliation. He couldn't have his hero thinking that, the only man who'd ever cared about him and encouraged him and looked at him as though he was _worth something_ , that he was more than just a useless, waste of space.

"I can't afford it."

The admittance lingered in the air between them like a physical weight, and Izuku watched, breath hitching as Yagi froze where he stood. The middle-schooler felt more traitorous tears leak down his face but couldn't get up the energy to wipe them away.

He might as well have been frozen.

"…What?" There was a croaky quality to the man's voice that hadn't been there before.

Suddenly, it was as if the flood gates had opened, and Izuku couldn't hold back the words if he wanted to, half-sobbed as they were.

"I tried, I really tried at first but meat was s-so expensive and I-I kept trying to find coupons and sales and I sold some of my things but even then I couldn't afford it so I tried as best as I could and I'm sorry I didn't m-mean to be an inconvenience I'm really sorry-!"

"Young Midoriya—"

"I swear I've b-been eating as much as I can and I've been trying to fill up on rice for carbohydrates and I've been trying, I can do better, I'll do better, I c-can keep going, just please don't stop training me—"

A large, warm hand settled on top of his head, the weight of it enough to stop the stuttered confession. Izuku raised his eyes – and when had he even looked away? And saw the hunched form of Yagi crouched on the sand in front of him, a curious expression on his face – something like alarm, tinged by something softer, something sadder.

"My boy, why didn't you just tell me?" He asked, his tone gentle – something about it caused Izuku's heart to ache.

The middle-schooler swallowed, sniffling and scrubbing at his eyes, mortification blooming as it occurred to him what he'd just admitted. Yagi already had so much to deal with; his family's financial troubles shouldn't be any of his mentor's concern.

"You're already doing so much for me." Izuku mumbled, face uncomfortably hot. "I didn't want to seem ungrateful."

A flick to the forehead met his words, and Izuku let out a slight yelp, reaching up to cover the afflicted skin and looking back up at Yagi, startled.

"None of that now!" He retorted, and in that moment he sounded much more like his heroic form, his tone brash and confident. "I am your teacher, after all! It is my job to look after you!"

Izuku couldn't help the way he warmed at the admission, a smile curling on his lips even as he sniffled once more. All Might's aura was always infectious.

"Forgive me, my boy. I should have asked about this sooner." The middle-schooler twitched at the hero's apology, denial already on his lips before he held a hand up, cutting him off. "Now, no need to defend me! I've learned my lesson. I'll be buying your groceries from now on."

Izuku choked. "You can't-!"

"I said I will and I will!" Yagi refuted, ruffling the boy's hair once more before standing, placing his hands on his hips and grinning down on him. "It will take a while to build your strength back up before we can really begin the strength training again, but have no fear! If it isn't tough, you aren't training hard enough!"

Relief came like a breath of fresh air, holding steady even against Izuku's embarrassment at the fact that he was more or less becoming All Might's charity case in addition to his student. All Might hadn't changed his mind, hadn't left even though he'd been so stupid and, and _weak—_

 _Kacchan could've done it-_

 _he was always such a burden—_

 _useless, quirkless, Deku—_

But even still, there was one pressing concern that the boy had about that statement. "Y-Yagi-san? I thought you said we were on a tight schedule though?" There were only nine months remaining until the UA exams, and if, if he'd messed up so bad that they had to start over…

Yagi's stilled, grin falling ever so slightly. "Ah, about that." He said, absently tucking a strand of unruly blonde hair behind his ear.

"There's no way you'll ready to receive my quirk in time for the entrance exam."

* * *

 **Y'ALL its been five days... I usually take /four months/ to update. Absolutely wack. (Also I've been sick w a stomach virus, and all ive been doing is sleeping and writing).**

 **This chapter was actually written very easily! Though I did rewrite the first bit and hem-hawwed on the rest a lil bit. We're finally getting into the Meat Of The Fic... 30k words in whoops. The next chapter is where the fun really begins, and we're going to be getting our first real time skip~! I'd love to know everyone's opinions and what all you'd like to see in the future chapters - more dadmight? More inko? More of izuku's existential angst? Less of it? Were getting closer and closer to where my plotting is a lil less well-developed so I'd appreciate everyone's feedback :D**

 **Also, I do want to clarify something: I don't hate Bakugou! I think he's a very interesting character and him and Izuku have a very unique relationship that I'm definitely planning on diving into more; however, based on how he is in the anime/manga at this point in the timeline? No, I don't think this is really out of character for him. He's a being of self-doubt, who needs people to fear and worship him to feel any sense of pride in himself.**

 **Song of the Chapter: "Numb" - Meg Myers**


	8. Chapter 8

_"Don't you find it odd," she continued, "that when you're a kid, everyone, all the world, encourages you to follow your dreams. But when you're older, somehow they act offended if you even try."_

-Ethan Hawke

* * *

 _Seven Months Later_

Izuku didn't like lying to his mom.

Something had always, always felt unnatural about it – about lying in general, to be honest. One of the few things he and Kacchan had ever shared as children was their proclivity for blunt honesty. Too many things to share, too many curiosities and observations racing through his mind, and too little tact to hold back from sharing them with a world that didn't need nor want to hear them.

He'd grown out of that bad habit mostly, but with Kaa-san—she knew how he was, knew that even when things didn't come out quite the way he intended that he didn't mean any harm. So he could just talk and talk and talk and she would _listen_ and there had always been something so freeing, so comforting about knowing he didn't need to censor himself.

But sometimes he had to.

Little things, mostly, that he'd been keeping up for years. Oh, Kacchan? Well he's been so busy with school and I think his parents enrolled him in some after school activities, so that's why he doesn't come around anymore! The bruise on his chin? He tripped over the barrier at the bus stop. His phone? Oh, he'd dropped it on his way home from school and he was _so sorry-!_ He must have misplaced his school blazer, he'd replace it with his own pocket money, don't worry! Yeah, no, he ate on the way home.

What? Of course he was fine. He was doing great.

He was happy. He was content.

Izuku needed her to think that, needed, with every ounce of his being, that semblance of normality. Needed to know it wasn't him and his multitude of mistakes that were adding on to the vast mountain of stress Kaa-san already had to deal with. He was old enough now to take care of himself.

But outside of his—his white lies and his deflections, he still preferred to be honest. He was terrible at lying when asked a frank, yes or no question, always had been – he was so lucky that his mom trusted him enough to take him at face value.

 _she was too good for him_

 _all he ever did was ruin everything he touched_

Izuku knows she doesn't do the same. And that's—that's okay. He understands, has always tried to understand where she is coming from. He can understand the desire to protect someone from an uncomfortable truth, so how could he be angry when she lies about rent? About how she's feeling? About what the doctor said at the last visit?

He would do the same. He does the same.

Izuku loves his mother more than anything in the world, and knows she loves him just as much.

So the simple things, when she had the energy to ask? He was usually up front. Yes, he did stay up until 4am watching a documentary and he is very, very sorry (to have disturbed her). He'd actually forgotten to do his math homework so he was going to be late coming home tomorrow because he'd been assigned extra cleaning duties at school. Yeah, he accidentally managed to burn the small saucepan, and he will definitely replace it himself and he is very sorry.

Its—freeing, to be open with her.

Until suddenly he can't be.

* * *

It's not exactly rare for Kaa-san to be awake when he gets home from training, but it is uncommon – especially as the winter months come to an end and the rain begins to pick up. She almost always stays in bed when it rains, the change in pressure doing nothing to ease her already aching joints.

So when he opens the door long after the sun has set, calls out a half-hearted, "I'm home!" while toeing off his shoes, tired and sluggish, he's startled to hear her answer his call.

"Welcome home!"

"Kaa-san?" Izuku's eyebrows furrow as he walks down the hallway – the kitchen light is on, painting the carpet a light beige rather than its usual dark brown. As he peeks around the corner he sees her, pale-face and purple lips, sitting at the table with a half-full mug of tea and a well-loved book in front of her.

She looks exhausted – she _always_ looks exhausted, deep bags under her eyes and an ever present sallowness to her skin, but her smile is gentle. Her expression is warm. Izuku can't help but return it, his face lighting up as he walks into the room.

"What are you doing up so late?" He wonders, setting his backpack down on the counter and absently checking the kettle – still mostly full.

Inko hums slightly, dog-earing the page she's on before closing the book with a muted thump. "I woke up a little while ago and couldn't fall back asleep – I thought I'd wait up for you to get back so I could say goodnight."

Izuku can't help but wince slightly at that – if he'd known she was waiting-! But Yagi already took so much time out of his day, he couldn't imagine asking the man to cut their sessions short, even if only on certain occasions. It seemed so… ungrateful.

"Ah, I'm sorry I stayed out so long then! I didn't mean to keep you up." He attempted to apologize, but Kaa-san merely looked unimpressed.

"You weren't keeping me up, silly! I'm up because I want to be. We haven't had time to sit and talk for a while after all." She tutted. Her words were light, but—something in her tone caused him to turn around from where he'd begun pouring himself a cup of tea.

His mom looked… contemplative, was perhaps the word for it.

Had they really not talked in so long? Between the training-induced exhaustion and the beginning of the new term, the days had begun to blur together – when was the last time he'd had a meal with her? The last time they'd watched tv together?

Guilt gnawed at him, harsh and sharp.

"Kaa-san, I'm so sorry—" He began, only for her to shush him softly and pat the seat beside her. Hesitantly, shoulders hunched, he did, hands wrapped tightly around the cup he set in front of him.

Kaa-san reached a hand over, petting his hair softly before pausing, letting out a soft sigh. There was a moment of silence before the woman spoke.

"Izuku, you know I love you," She began – the few words enough to make the younger boy tense, anxiety spiking. "And you know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Like he imagined any teenage boy would be in this situation, Izuku felt half-ready to jump out the nearest window to avoid it.

 _Oh god what did she know?_ He'd been so careful and Kacchan hadn't even looked in his direction in weeks, let alone laid a hand on him. He hadn't left any blood in the sink or burned clothes in the laundry basket and he was pretty sure she hadn't caught him limping last week after managing to twist his ankle doing suicides on the beach. Was there something else? Was he acting suspicious? Did she think something was off about him? Was he doing something wrong?

"I- I know that!" Izuku denied after a pregnant pause, shoulders tensed. His mom just… _looked_ at him for a moment, her expression an unsettling combination of heartfelt and worried. He hated worrying her.

 _he should've just jumped—_

The middle schooler is startled from his self-deprecation by the sound of the kitchen chair sliding back, Kaa-san moving to stand. He had a brief moment of worry that he'd somehow upset her or made her angry but—but no, that was stupid. He knew that was stupid, Kaa-san was always willing to talk.

Still, his eyes didn't leave her as she walked over to the counter. Each dull slap of her slippers against the tile made him bunch up smaller and smaller, half-hoping he could make himself so small that he'd just disappear into himself and cease to exist.

No such luck though.

The drawer under the microwave opened with a groan of complaint, followed by the rifling of papers. Izuku felt like he was beginning to go insane with conspiracy theories – had he done something wrong at school? Were his grades slipping? Had one of his classmates blamed him for something again?

For better or worse, his desperate curiosity was relieved when the woman found what she wanted, turned around, and placed it gently on the table.

Izuku's heart dropped.

Sitting there, unopened, was none other than a large envelope, and blazoned clearly on its font was none other than the emblem for UA.

"Oh." He whispered.

It was quiet, for a moment, Kaa-san moving to sit back in her seat. Neither of them said a word – he could feel his mom watching him, hear her sipping absently from her mug of tea, but couldn't bring himself to look up. To say a word.

He'd—he'd never planned for this conversation. He'd known, eventually, he would have to tell his mom what school he was planning to apply to, but that had always been something down the line! When he had all his statistics and facts in hands to convince her that with scholarships it wouldn't actually be much more expensive than any of the nicer schools around here and that this was a great opportunity and he promised, he _promised_ that he could do it.

When he'd gotten around to telling her that he still wanted to be a hero.

There is a twinge of something dark in the back of his mind, from the place he tries desperately to forget exists. It's bitter and acidic and every word it whispers leaves behind a residue he can never quite seem to shake.

 _She had to choose today of all days to leave the house?_

Its followed immediately by shame. He should be happy that she felt well enough to do so, not—not be _resentful_ because it inconvenienced him. What kind of horrible son was he? What kind of awful person? This was his fault.

"Izuku," Kaa-san began before cutting herself off, hesitant. He steeled himself as she began again. "Why didn't you say anything about applying to UA?"

"I haven't applied." He replied, the words spilling from his lips without much thought. He hadn't, actually – this was probably the information packet regarding the courses he'd requested a couple weeks back. As much as he respected his mentor, All Might wasn't always the… _best_ with remembering the details, especially about the courses he himself hadn't attended.

Kaa-san's lips pursed. "But you're going to? Izuku, where did this come from? I thought you'd—you'd…" She trails off, but Izuku can tell exactly where he train of thought had been heading.

" _I thought you'd given up."_

And maybe he had. But not on being a hero, not since someone had looked at him, had _believed_ in him, and that he had—that he had potential, to do good, to change lives-!

His mother loved him more than anything in the world, but—

She had never really believed in him. In his dreams.

* * *

 _"I'm so sorry Izuku, I'm so sorry!"_

* * *

"Does this… does this have something to do with whose been training you?" And Izuku choked.

"The- the what? No one's been training me!" He protested, face pale and eyes wide. "I've—why do you think someone's training me?"

Where had he messed up!? He'd been trying to be so careful—Yagi was going to be so _disappointed—_

Kaa-san cleared her throat slightly, looking about as comfortable with the conversation as her son felt. "And no ones been buying the groceries, then, either?"

Immediate alarm, because _he hadn't thought she would notice-!_

"I- I, mean—"

His mom leaned across the table, sliding a hand forward – her knuckles were discolored, her nails bitten. Even so, he reached his own out, trying desperately to keep it from shaking.

"Baby, I just need to you to talk to me. To tell me what's going on." She implored. Izuku chanced a glance up, only to jolt as he saw the sheen to her eyes – he'd inherited his tearfulness from her, after all. "Are you in trouble? Are… You aren't being… hurt, are you?"

And it was that, _that_ , the notion that All Might, that Yagi Toshinori, the man who had looked at little, insignificant and quirkless Midoriya Izuku and lifted him up, gave him the power to _help-_! The idea that his hero could have ever, in a million years done something to wrong him, to hurt him, was beyond contemplation.

"Wh- No! No, he'd never hurt me!" Izuku denied, voice raising slightly. Kaa-san's hand twitched underneath his own.

"Him? So there is someone then?"

Oh god no he hadn't meant to say that-! "He's – he's just been helping me with some exercises. It's nothing!"

"Izuku there is 3,000 yen beef in the fridge! This man is obviously not just helping out a little bit!" And at that, the boy sputtered because _what!?_ Ever since their conversation a few months prior, Yagi had made good on his decision and had been showing up to their workouts one a week with bags of groceries in tow, but he'd had no idea that he'd been—been wasting his money on Izuku, buying such extravagant things! He'd have to—to find a way to pay him back, Kami that was _so much money-!_

"Just talk to me! Please! I just want to understand." Kaa-san begged, moving to grasp his hands between both of hers. Her skin was chilled next to his, but the motion comforted him regardless.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to, he did, with every ounce in his body, but it wasn't his secret to tell.

"I-I—" But he had to tell her _something—_ "He thinks I might have a quirk!" Izuku blurted out, regret immediately setting in because oh god that is not what he meant to say at all.

Kaa-san immediately stiffened in her seat, her eyes darting around his face. "Izuku…" And he recognized that tone.

"He's—I know it sounds bad, but he's not—he's not manipulating me or anything! He has legitimate reasons! I looked into it!"

"Izuku, your toe joint—"

"There's not much precedent for that, okay, but in regards to activation based quirks, there is a—there is a statistical probability that suggests that it can actually be—"

"None of the specialists we went to ever found any sign—"

"There is still so much that we don't know about quirks! They could have easily missed something, or there are markers that we still don't know to look for, that's why there are still cases of people not manifesting quirks until their teenage years or even older-!"

"You can't honestly believe-!"

 _"He believes in me!"_ Izuku wasn't quite sure when his voice had begun to raise, and when his mom's had as well. Can't remember when he let go of her hand, when he began to stand. Didn't know when his eyes began to sting, when he began to argue this- this whole false conversation so enthusiastically, but what he did know was this.

* * *

 _"You can be a hero."_

* * *

Kaa-san looked visibly shaken, her eyes wet and glassy even in the dim kitchen lighting. She opened her mouth only to close it again. "Izuku…" She whispered, pained.

Izuku swallowed, looking pointedly away from her direction, trying to swallow back his own tears. "Kaa-san he really, really thinks I can do it. That I can be a hero. I…" He steeled himself before glancing up, meeting eyes that matched his own. "I want to try. _Please._ "

For a moment, the room was quiet; the only audible noise that of muted commercials filtering through the thin walls connecting them to the apartment next door. It felt as though neither of them were even breathing, too afraid to be the first to break the palpable silence.

But slowly, Kaa-san let out a deep breath and opened her arms, beckoning him forward with the furrow of her brows alone. Izuku could have wept with relief as he walked over, nearly throwing himself into her embrace.

His mom smelled liked laundry detergent, lilac shampoo, and a faint chemical tang that never seemed to fade. She smelled like _home_.

The stress in his stance began to ebb as she shakily started to pet his curls, her uneven nails catching slightly in the stray strands. He didn't think he could hold back his tears at this point if his life depended on it – slowly but surely he dampened the fabric on her shoulder.

"Oh Izuku, I'm so sorry." Kaa-san spoke, her voice wavering. "I—I believe in you, I do. I love you more than anything. I've just… I've always been so _afraid._ You're my everything and heroics are… baby, they're so dangerous. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, Kaa-san. I promise." He whispered into her embrace. And he wouldn't – he'd never planned of making her experience his death. That's why he was going to wait; he'd follow her, rather than the other way around. Everyone would be happy then. There wouldn't be anyone alive to miss him.

 _but maybe Yagi-san-?_

 _but no, it was better not to hope._

 _She believed in him._ Just the thought—even if she was telling another one of her white lies, just the idea that she would support him even if she didn't really think anything would come of it—

He didn't want to lie to her. He wanted her there, with him, as he fought. Wanted to know he could come home to her.

 _what was he going to do without her?_

"W-Why don't we sit, and finish our tea, and you can tell me more about… about what you want to do?" Kaa-san announced after another quiet moment, stepping back and looking down at him, her smile slightly strained on her face. Izuku nodded, quickly swiping away at the remaining dampness on his cheek before forcing his own small smile in her direction.

The next few minutes passed quickly, in a flurry of chairs scraping against the tile and the sound of a spoon clinking against the edge of a mug. By the end of it, the two of them were in position similar to the ones they had begun in – both grasping steaming cups of tea, staring uncomfortably at one another, an untold tension still lingering in the air between them.

"So," She begins. "UA."

Izuku coughed slightly, having chosen to take a sip at an inopportune moment. "Right!" He responded, wincing as his voice cracked. "Right, um. I'm just—that letter was just the materials I requested, I think? But I… I want to apply this winter. I've been looking into a lot of the scholarship applications as well."

Kaa-san took a slow sip from her mug, her expression contemplative. "How are you planning on doing this?" She wondered. "Even… ah, even if you do have a quirk like your… _mentor_ ," He could almost hear the air quotes around the word mentor. "-believes, are you sure you can use it in the exam?" She fretted.

This, at least, was an easy question. "Oh, I'm applying for General Education!"

* * *

 _Seven Months Prior_

 _"There's no way you'll ready to receive my quirk in time for the entrance exam."_

The words seemed to linger in the air for a moment after they were uttered, swimming around without ever quite reaching him – he could see Yagi looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response. He knew—he _knew_ that he needed to say—something. To assure the man who had already done so much for him that that was perfectly fine, but—

Izuku couldn't force the words out.

The middle-schooler was not unfamiliar with panic. It always seemed so—petty, maybe, to sit and try to put names to all the things wrong with him. He knew he was a screw up, a waste of space, prone to ruining everything he touched. He knew that! He was well aware!

So looking at himself and everything _wrong_ with him and trying to apply words like—like _anxiety,_ and _depression_ , seemed… Wrong. Like he was making for excuses for himself. He wasn't sick, his _mom_ was sick, _All Might_ was sick – and its not that he didn't think they were real disorders-! Just that, they were for people who couldn't help it.

Izuku should be able to. He just didn't try hard enough. He couldn't blame anyone but himself.

But somethings were easier to deal when you had a tentative name for it. A quick google search can give anyone a list of symptoms of an anxiety attack: heart palpitations, increased sweating, difficulty breathing—a dozen terms that all sounded so— _sterile_.

As Izuku sat there on the sand, staring blankly into the sunken eyes of his hero, it felt like anything but.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe but he absolutely could not let Yagi know. Kami, he'd already come so close to losing his mentor and his only chance at ever actually accomplishing anything in his short fucking life and what would he do if the man saw how broken he was and how messed up and just turned him away and he'd have to go home and cut his wrists in the bathtub so that he'd never have to wake up again and face the fact that he'd ruined everything _again and hehadonlyhimselftoblame_ -!

Breathe. Forcefully, with every ounce of self-control he had, he breathed. Izuku felt his lungs inflate and deflate.

He just had to pretend he was in front of Kaa-san, or in class – places where nobody could see his panic. He just had to keep it in inside, lock it up, and deal with it later.

Izuku channeled the child who'd spent so much of his childhood forcing happiness in front of the mirror and let a small, exhausted smile spread across his lips.

"O-Oh!" His voice cracked slightly and he winced, hoping the man would think it was from exhaustion, maybe, rather than nerves.

 _he wanted to go home-_

Yagi's brow furrowed slightly as he lowered his hands down to his hips, peering at his young charge. "Are you all right my boy?"

Izuku swallowed and bobbed his head. "I'm fine!" He was fine. He had no choice but to be fine. He could be not-fine later. Later. Not now.

Oh god he was going to throw up in front of All Might _again._

The hero looked him over for a moment, lingering, before he shrugged slightly. "We'll have to rework the schedule, but this might actually be for the best. We were already pushing it with our current timeline – there's much less chance of you, oh, losing a limb this way!" The grin across his gaunt face did not mesh particularly well with his ending statement, and were it any other scenario Izuku would have a fair few things to say about _losing a limb-!?_

But another part of Yagi's proclamation caught his intention instead, and he blinked up at the man, startled.

"You're still going to give me your quirk?" He asked, the anxiety twisting in his chest lessening minutely; he could—maybe he could fix this, could do better.

The older man was visibly taken aback. "What? Why wouldn't I?"

"But I won't be enrolled in a heroics school! Isn't that illegal?" Izuku knew for a fact that it was, in fact, illegal, and had been since Saito vs. Japan was established some twelve years prior.

Saito Mayu had been a second-generation pro hero who was arrested after her protégé – a young man with a kinetic quirk, accidentally demolished the public building they were training in. Saito had argued it was legal because she was training the man to be her sidekick, but it was almost unanimously agreed that no one but those licensed – be it in teaching or quirk counseling – could coach minors in that matter.

Izuku couldn't imagine a single universe in which Yagi, in which _All Might,_ number-one-hero, beacon of light and paragon of morality, would ever flaunt the rules like that – and he knew that the man probably could. Who could say no to The All Might, after all?

But Izuku… Izuku wasn't worth that. Wasn't worth the effort, wasn't worth the struggle, or the inconvenience.

 _he ruined everything he touched_

Yagi's confusion was palpable as he glanced down at his hunched form. "Who said you weren't going to a heroics school?"

"But you said I wouldn't be ready for the entrance exam!" Izuku exclaimed, voice shaking slightly even as his words came out louder than intended. "I'm- I can't—there's no way I could—could _possibly_ pass without…!"

Humiliation was a familiar friend, and he could feel it's grasp start to take hold as he stumbled, struggling to say exactly what he meant.

Quirkless.

There's no way somebody _quirkless_ could ever be—could ever enter the heroics course.

* * *

 _"It's not bad to dream, but you have to be realistic."_

* * *

"Of course not!" All Might responded, a wide grin spreading across his face.

 _of course not-_

 _of course he can't do it-_

* * *

 _"A hero without a quirk you say?"_

* * *

"—but UA has more than just a heroics course, my boy!" Yagi finished. For a moment, Izuku could do little more than stare blankly up at his hero, the lump is his throat making it difficult to speak.

"You… want me to enroll as… support?" He questioned, voice hesitant. Surely that's not what the man meant? Izuku had nothing but respect for support heroes, but he'd never been very mechanically inclined. He was much better with data and analysis. But… but if it would let him be a hero, he supposed he could… he could _learn—_

(His dad had always liked to tinker – trying to fix the microwave, or the AC.)

(He wasn't allowed to help anymore. After his diagnosis.)

All Might snorted—actually _snorted_ – and then choked slightly, shoulders hunching as he coughed into a clenched fix. The middle schooler flinched, hands tensing at his sides and he glanced around for his backpack in a practiced, near pavlovian-response to the sound. There hadn't been too many occasions since the first that the man had really struggled but Izuku assumed that was because he wasn't particularly active when they were together, preferring to hitch a ride on his Segway or find a random piece of junk to perch on.

Guilt felt remarkably like nausea.

 _it was his fault—_

Thankfully, though, this fit didn't last too long and the man was wiping specks of blood on his track suit within a minute or so, grimacing as he rolled his shoulders until they let out an audible pop. "Sorry about that my boy."

"I-it's fine! Do you need a water bottle?" He'd been keeping a few stashed in his backpack for emergencies.

"Ah, no. I'm, ah, fine. Where were we?"

"Me enrolling in support…?"

"Right!" Yagi clapped his hands together, the sound jarring enough that Izuku couldn't hold back a wince, his head letting out a dull throb. "That's not the plan. You, my successor, will be enrolling in general education!"

He wasn't quite sure whether it was the dehydration or his fainting spell from earlier, but something about this conversation felt like it was muddled, muffled – like it was being spoken in a language he _knew_ he had learned but couldn't quite remember. The middle-schooler struggled to spin the pieces together in a way that made any kind of sense – what was he missing?

"But—but you can't get a heroics license from that department!" And Izuku would know, as he had most certainly looked.

He'd considered it at one point, following his last session with the school counselor. It was the one UA department that didn't actively have quirk evaluations, and Izuku—he wasn't stupid, he knew—he knew that even though the handbook didn't explicitly _forbid_ the quirkless from attending, it wasn't really… it wasn't really an option for him. So Gen Ed was possibly the only one he'd have the slightest chance of realistically getting access to.

It always felt more like a punishment than just going to a completely separate school, every time he thought about it.

Just… watching. The years passing by as everyone around him completed his dreams.

Knowing he never would.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head when you fell?" Yagi asked, a lightness to his tone that took out any bite the words could've held. Something in them caused Izuku to give, slightly. It was how the man usually sounded when they were working, with no sign of his earlier disapproval.

 _he never wanted to see that look on his hero's face ever again—_

He needed to calm _down_ , he was being dramatic. It was okay, he was okay, spiraling didn't help anything.

He just needed to breathe.

"You can't get a license in Gen Ed, but you can transfer from it to other courses!" Yagi finished, mindless of his student's internal monologue. "It's rare, but it does happen, depending on how the students do in the sports festival."

Something that felt remarkably like hope flickered in his chest, but Izuku was hesitant to give it room to grow. He wrung his hands in his lap, shoulders hunching as he met Yagi's eyes for a moment before glancing away.

He was loathe to argue, but—"I've never read anything in the handbook regarding that, or seen any accounts of it in the forums-?" Izuku winced – he hadn't meant for it to come out so questioning.

Yagi-san froze for a moment before giving him a sheepish grin, scratching absently at his nose. "Well it is pretty rare. I know it's happened before, but it's not something you see often."

Oh no.

"Y-Yagi-san, um, how many people have, uh, transferred this way?"

There was a brief moment of silence as the two stared at one another; the older man was the first to break, letting out an awkward cough and glancing away.

"…I can think of, ah, two. Off the top of my head."

"Wh—two, ever!?" Izuku choked, spine straightening. "The school has been around for almost eighty years!"

"Well, yes! But nothing is impossible when you put your mind to it!" The hero decreed, flashing one of the smiles that Izuku had begun to mentally file into the 'All Might' category versus the 'Yagi' one – wider, showing more teeth, but with less squinting of his eyes. Yagi was a lot less… not enthusiastic, exactly, so much as energetic, when he wasn't in his heroic form. Like he wasn't trying so hard, maybe? And it showed in the way he held himself, and the way he emoted.

And, as Izuku had slowly discovered over the last month, that the man reverted to being All Might when he was _nervous._ Like when Izuku had managed to cut his hand on an old fridge and had a brief breakdown when he was convinced he'd gotten tetanus or when he'd almost-drowned on a particularly rough day swimming laps.

In that moment, his hero's ever-comforting smile was anything but.

"But I'm—the sports festival is against the whole grade! Who've all had their quirks since birth, and—and I bet most of them will have received some kind of combat training and, and—" The deluge of word's fell from his lips, stuttered and difficult to follow.

"Come now, there's no time for excuses! Do you want to be a hero or not?"

Izuku _wanted._

"I do-!" He protested, only to be cut off.

"Then have faith in yourself my boy! Bring out that heroic spirit of yours! What's UA's motto, after all?"

 _But All Might didn't understand—_

"Plus Ultra?"

 _That there was nothing to have faith in—_

"Are you asking me?"

"Um, no! No, sorry, plus ultra!"

 _Because in the end, no matter what-_

"Come on, put your scrawny little back into it!"

"Plus Ultra!"

"There you go, my boy! Now come on, lets get you home before you pass out on me again. We can rework the schedule and the diet tomorrow morning."

 _Anything,_ _ **anything**_ _worthwhile about him—_

"Y-yes, sir!"

"What did I say about the sirs?"

 _Had come from All Might himself.  
_

* * *

"Oh, I didn't know that you could transfer to different courses!"

"Ah! Its um. Yeah, they don't really advertise it, haha!" She didn't _really_ need to know how rare it was, did she? "And if I do have a quirk like Yag- like, um, my trainer thinks I do, then I should have enough of a grasp to do a good showing?"

Kaa-san paused for a moment, her eyes darting over his features, searching; Izuku tensed, spending a moment just… waiting. If she said no there—there really wasn't anything he could do. It's not like he could fake her signature on all of his admission papers, and honestly the thought of going behind her back like that kind of made him want to vomit.

If she said no—he'd have to stop.

 _go back to waiting to die_

 _he didn't want to say goodbye_

No more early morning training sessions where he was half convinced his lungs were going to shrivel up and die, where each step was followed by called encouragements and half-joking admonishments to pick up his knees. No more need to carry tissues and water bottles in his bags, and maybe a bit of hydrogen peroxide just in case Yagi-san got blood on his shirt again. No more lunch breaks and quiet conversations and the occasional goodnight texts.

 _Please, Kaa-san—_

"Alright. I can see how much this means to you – I can't even remember the last time I saw you so passionate, honey." She began, tapping her finger idly against the placemat. "And—I want you to be happy, Izuku. I want you to follow your dreams. I'll help you as best as I can—"

His heart _leapt_ , oh kami there was no way, she was really going to let him apply!?

"-On one condition."

And then his heart stopped. Oh god.

"W-What condition….?" He squeaked, hands twisting in the fabric of his athletic pants.

"I want to meet this mentor of yours." _  
_

* * *

HEY IM NOT DEAD. It's been what, six, seven months? The only excuse I can give is that I am now in my senior year of college and it is, in fact, kicking my ass. I promise I will let you guys know if this fic is dead for real, but otherwise I'm probably going to continue posting pretty sparsely, sorry ):

This chapter was very difficult to write! It's that kind of awkward point between the first part of the series and then getting into UA (which will begin next chapter). I was dragging my feet a bit with it, but I do like how it turned out. I've been excited to start diving more into Izuku and Inko's relationship! And how as much as he loves her, there is that kind of underlying resentment because she didn't support his dreams and, even if its not her fault, She Isn't There. I can't wait to poke at it more in the future!

Song of the Chapter: "Fine on the Outside" - Priscilla Ahn


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